


wonderland

by clarkesquad



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Boarding School AU, F/F, sex & queer girls & a+ one liners brought to you by raven reyes, straight up this fic is about three things
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-18
Updated: 2016-05-31
Packaged: 2018-03-31 02:31:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 34,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3961090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clarkesquad/pseuds/clarkesquad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>here's how it goes: lexa is a bit of a closet case, clarke is her painfully attractive roommate, and raven has a bad case of The Feelings for octavia. everyone is supposedly "just friends".</p>
<p>in short, the boarding school au.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. a drop in the ocean

**Author's Note:**

> warnings: homophobia (most of it internalized)

The first thing that tips her off that she’s dreaming is the muffled sound of a toilet flushing.

Right. She’s not trapped in her Latin final without her pants on. She’s not even in public school anymore.

Just a dream.

Lexa is nowhere near Walter High School anymore. She’s in _boarding school_ now. Which is... Different, but she’s adjusting.

If being trapped in public school was just a dream, private boarding school is a nightmare.

It’s been a week since she moved in and it’s been hell.

Hell _. Ha_. The irony of it all doesn’t escape her.

She blinks a few times and tugs her bedsheets closer when her roommate opens the bathroom door and shuffles into their room, pulling her school uniform out of her dresser in parts. First the skirt, then the tie, the shirt, and after some digging through the third drawer from the top, a pair of black knee high socks. She must think Lexa is still sleeping, because she strips out of her pajamas and starts to change into her uniform right there. Or maybe she just doesn’t care. She really does seem like the type of girl who wouldn’t care.

She’s got the body for that kind of confidence. Her muscles are toned, her stomach is flat, and her breasts are–

Definitely not something Lexa should be thinking about.

She averts her eyes and pays attention to the messy bedsheets on the other side of the room. Her roommate isn’t particularly preoccupied with organization. She should say something about that next time she isn’t taking her plaid pajama shorts off and tossing them into a hamper before messing with the zipper of her skirt.

Her underwear looks more expensive than Lexa would expect it to, but then again – this _is_ a private school. Just because she’s never seen the inside of a Victoria’s Secret and only got accepted thanks to family connections doesn’t mean that her roommate, Clarke Griffin, could say the same.

Lexa isn’t poor by any means, but she’s certainly never spent her money on anything quite as frivolous as lacy underwear.

Clarke pulls her skirt up and does the buttons of her shirt before tucking the ends into her skirt. With practiced fingers that have done this for three years now – Lexa had asked, she’s been a student here since she was 15 – Clarke ties her tie and slips into her uniform blazer.

Lexa doesn’t have enough time to shut her eyes and pretend to be asleep before Clarke turns around.

“Morning.” She says it without a care in the world, like Lexa isn’t fighting off the wave of embarrassment that hits her when she realizes Clarke knew she was watching her.

Her throat closes off and she barely manages a grunt in response. Clarke just rolls her eyes and throws her bag over her shoulder with a sigh on her way out the door.

She really is rude.

Lexa throws her sheets off the moment the door shuts behind Clarke and heads for the bathroom, locking the door and bracing her palms against the edge of the counter. She hasn’t even been awake for ten minutes yet and Clarke Griffin has already ruined her day. Her crime? Lexa hasn’t totally worked that out yet, but the one thing she knows is no one has ever gotten under her skin quite like Clarke Griffin. And never this fast. It’s 7 a.m. for crying out loud, and she’s already dreading having to see her in class.

Not unusual, as evidenced by the last seven days. and most likely something she should get used to. They’re not friends. A bitter laugh escapes her at the thought as she rifles through the bag on the counter for her toothbrush. Not even close. But they’ve managed some form of a routine to minimize the amount of the time they spend together.

Lexa studies in their room. Clarke studies in the library. Clarke is out until curfew, sometimes even later, and Lexa only leaves for classes and meals. And Mass, of course. She always goes to Mass.

Class doesn’t start until 8:00, but Clarke is always gone by 7:15 to eat breakfast with Reyes and her roommate.

She’s sure that Clarke can’t stand her either, but Lexa doesn’t blame her.

Lexa finishes brushing her teeth while she does everything to not remember the poster incident. Truthfully, she’s been nothing but awful to Clarke, and she couldn’t be more embarrassed about it if she tried. But Clarke is... judgemental. That’s not an admirable trait, certainly not one she would want in a friend.

Clarke couldn’t even imagine the stress she had been in on her first day.

She pulls her hair forward and starts to brush out the tangles in her curls.

She’d barely had time to pack her things, barely had time to say goodbye, and she couldn’t even say goodbye to the people she cared about. Gus. Tristan. Nyko. The brush in her hand stills.

No. Lexa picks up the brush again and tugs harshly against the knots in her hair. She’s here to let go of her. To put Costia behind her.

It’s what she wanted. That’s what her Mother said, and even if it felt like a lie, it wasn’t. She was right. Her mother has decades of life experience under her belt – Lexa has seventeen years.

_You wanted to get caught._

Her heart still says what Costia would have. That that’s a load of bullshit. Even now, Costia is still getting in her head.

But her mother had to be right. Lexa was nothing if not reasonable, and reason suggests that her mother was right. She had been foolish enough to get caught with Costia. Not just caught. Caught _in bed_. Caught in bed, with Costia, with a _girl_ , in her own home, by her parents. Doing something so reckless can only be a cry for attention. It’s a little much to pass off as a coincidence.

_This was the Lord’s path for you, twisted as your mind may have been by that girl, you wanted us to know. You were screaming to tell us. All the signs were there, your Father and I only have ourselves to blame._

The Lord’s path. Maybe. Screaming to tell them? Even now that still feels like a stretch. Maybe hindsight isn’t 20/20. It all still feels like a blur – falling for Costia, losing herself in her, and not even once stopping to consider that maybe the way she felt was wrong. Then getting caught, packing, leaving, mourning.

Acceptance. And then came Clarke.

Clarke, who couldn’t have known what she’d been through, but still. She had judged her from the moment they had met. She was absolutely not the kind of person Lexa would ever befriend.

So instead of meeting people she might befriend, she stays here, overthinking every interaction she’s had with Clarke. At least she isn’t thinking about Costia as much anymore. She runs a hand through her hair and leaves the bathroom, promising herself that this it. The day she stops thinking about her. This is it for good, it needs to be. Her parents had given her a way out. This was a new start, a new beginning for her. To get away from everything she’d fallen into with Costia, with Costia’s family, with Costia’s friends. All of it. That wasn’t the life anyone wanted her to live.

She dresses quickly. If she eats breakfast quickly, she can get to the library, get ahead on her reading, and lighten her homework load for tonight. A morning without having to see Clarke much doesn’t sound all that unappealing, if she’s honest. Lexa tightens her tie and adjusts the way it sits against her shirt. She’s not very good at this yet – the tie thing. But she has to admit she enjoys the feel of the uniform. She feels more professional in the blazer. It’s a novelty she’s sure will wear off soon enough, but for now she appreciates it as best she can.

Lexa pulls her hair into a bun and faces the mirror over her dresser, pulling on the lapels of her jacket.

Mind over matter.

If her parents could convince themselves that their daughter was straight after the things they’d seen, so could she after the things she’s done. She likes to think of herself as a capable young woman. She prides herself on that. If they could believe it was a phase, so could she. It’s not unrealistic. These things do happen, teenagers all over the world succumb to peer pressure under the right circumstances. She was a victim. And that’s not something to be ashamed of.

Besides, she’s a christian. She _really_ is. Here, she’s technically a Catholic, but the principle remains the same. Anything in the vein of homosexuality is wrong and that’s why she’s here.

A second chance, infuriating roommate and all. A way out.

Lexa Woods _cannot_ be gay.

–

“I’m telling you, Clarke. Your roommate is gay.”

Octavia drops her Chemistry textbook on the table and slides into a seat next to Raven. “I’m with Raven.”

Clarke rolls her eyes. “You’re always with Raven.”

“True. What are we talking about?” Octavia steals an apple off of Raven’s tray and takes a bite.

“Lexa Woods.”

“Say her a name a little louder, why don’t you?” Clarke asks through clenched teeth.

“LEXA W–” She starts, only interrupted by Octavia being a godsend and tickling Raven’s side to shut her up. “Okay, okay, okay, okay, STOP!” She pouts and drinks out of her milk carton before she talks again. “I’m serious though. I mean, look at her.”

She nods in the direction of the cafeteria entrance. Clarke follows her gaze until she finds Lexa shuffling into line with one hand on her shoulder bag and one hand loading her breakfast tray.

Unsurprisingly, nothing about her is out of place. It’s not a compliment, just an observation. She always looks _perfect_. Clarke wonders who she’s trying to impress so much, since she clearly considers herself above everyone else. She doubts Lexa even has a friend here yet.

That’s sort of sad, actually.

She drags her eyes away from her roommate and looks at Raven again. “What about her?”

“She’s practically _dripping_ in homosexuality.”

Octavia shrugs. “She’s just pouring milk in a bowl.”

“There’s a gay way to do that.”

Clarke rolls her eyes and takes the bait. “How?”

“She’s doing it, look.”

Again, predictable. Clarke twirls her blueberry muffin in her hand and takes a bite out of it.

“Whatever, who cares if she’s gay?”

“Uh, me.” They both say in unison.

Her best friends are selfish traitors.

“Well, I don’t. She’s my roommate.”

“Your hot roommate.” Raven adds. _Unnecessarily_.

“She’s not _that_ hot.” Octavia adds with a shrug, but they ignore it.

“My humorless cold-hearted bitch of a roommate.”

Octavia nods. “She does kind of have a stick up her ass.”

“Your _hot_ humorless cold-hearted bitch of a roommate. Am I the only seeing the hot thing? Am I the only one at this table who still has eyes?”

“Sorry, Rave.” Octavia shrugs. “I gotta change my mind here, I’m with Clarke. She’s not even worth it. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her smile.”

Clarke sits up and toys with the paper wrapping on her muffin. “Well, you’ve only know her for a week. I’m sure she’s capable of smiling.

“You’ve been living with her. Have you even seen her smile?”

“No,” She resigns with a shrug. “Whatever. The point is, it doesn’t matter if she’s gay. That’s her business.”

Her eyes wander past Raven and Octavia to the table behind them, where Lexa sets down her bag and opens a book beside her breakfast. Octavia’s not totally wrong. Not about the sexuality thing, she couldn’t care less, really. But she was right about the other thing.

Not worth it.

–

Clarke hasn’t stopped playing boy band music since the minute she threw her textbooks down on her bed and plugged in her iPod. Lexa is certain that she’s only doing it to annoy her because she smiles every time Lexa sighs.

She wonders if Clarke could be any ruder if she really tried.

“Do you think you could find any _new_ music to listen to?” It doesn’t come out as politely as she had hoped it would. Instead, she raises an eyebrow at Clarke from across the room, her tone dripping in venom from the pent-up frustration that she’s really put an effort to keep to herself lately.

She’s at least _trying_. Clarke is not.

“What? Not into boy bands?” Clarke asks innocently.

Lexa locks her jaw.

“Not to the extent that you are, clearly.”

“Well, don’t worry about it.” She leans across her bed to the speaker on her side table and changes the song. “I’ve got girl bands, too.”

Clarke falls back against her pillow and nods her head along to a song that Lexa doesn’t recognize.

“Give it to me, I’m worth it,” She sings along under her breath, flipping through one of her textbooks. “Baby, I’m worth it.” Lexa knows she’s not really reading her textbook.

When Lexa doesn’t comment on her singing, although she wants to – it’s _rude_ , Clarke sings louder. The song is repetitive and quickly getting on her nerves, but Clarke does have a nice voice.

She pulls her blonde hair to one side while she pretends to read her textbook and tilts her head. Lexa can’t help but get distracted by the curve of her neck. She’d changed out of her uniform and into a tank top a few hours ago.

“What about you?” Clarke looks up, catching her staring. “Which do you prefer? Girl bands or boy bands?”

Lexa swallows dryly. “I have a varied taste in music.” She admits, it’s not really an answer. But with the way Clarke asks it, she doesn’t feel comfortable picking between the two. Clarke smiles to herself and Lexa feels the familiar rush of annoyance and animosity that only Clarke can really force out of her.

“Well, if you haven’t noticed, Clarke, unlike you, I’m busy.” Again, she doesn’t mean for it to sound as harsh as it does, and she can feel the shame that follows quickly. It’s not like she’s oblivious to her own thoughts. She’s not unaware of why she keeps doing this.

“Jeez, relax. You’re the one who talked first anyway.”

“Because you were distracting m–” She squeezes her lips shut and rolls her eyes. “Because your music was a distraction. You could use some consideration, Clarke.”

Clarke turns off her music and snaps. “You could use some basic social skills.”

Lexa doesn’t disagree. She used to be better at this. She used to have friends. She used to be liked. Everything is off-kilter now. She decides that she doesn’t care. Clarke is rude and judgemental and selfish and Lexa deserves to put herself first for once.

Clarke uses the next few minutes to test her patience as best she can. First with tapping her pen. She can ignore that. She can block it out. When Clarke throws a pillow to the other side of her bed and repositions herself to lay on her stomach as she reads, Lexa’s eyes drag over her body. Her shirt rides up over her lower back, revealing a few inches of skin. She shuts her eyes and takes a deep breath before focusing on the notes in her lap again.

Again, she’s not oblivious to her own thoughts. She just needs to find a way to stop them. These days all she can think about is girls, even though it’s the last thing she wants on her mind. It’s like telling someone not to think about little red bears; suddenly their brain turns into a Charmin Ultra Strong commercial out of spite.

She feels Clarke’s eyes on her for a few moments and then her head turns, looking down at her book again. Clarke lets out a frustrated breath.

“Could you sigh just a little louder?” Lexa asks with sarcasm on her tongue because she has _no_ control over what her mouth does around her roommate. One of these days she’s going to have to tape her lips shut to survive this place.

Clarke shuts her textbook. “What have I done this time?”

“You’re angry at me.” Lexa isn’t asking. She’d be angry at herself, too. She _is_ angry at herself.

“I can’t win with you.” Clarke says, pushing herself up from her pillow.

Lexa looks away from Clarke when she pulls her shirt down to cover herself. “It takes two to start a feud, Clarke.”

“You’re right.” She pulls her jacket from her bedpost and throws it over her tank top, pulling her hair out from the collar. “It does.” Clarke throws a few things into her backpack and turns to face Lexa. “Good thing there’s only going to be one of us here tonight.”

She doesn’t offer any explanation past that, just throws her backpack over her shoulder, slips on a pair of boots, and leaves.

Lexa falls back against her bedframe. She hates that she hates Clarke. She hates that Clarke hates her. But there are really worse things she could feel for her own roommate.

–

Clarke rolls onto her stomach on Octavia’s bed and unwraps another hershey’s kiss from Raven’s stash. She pops it in her mouth and shrugs. “I just snapped, you know? She’s been like this since the day we moved in and it just pisses me off.”

Octavia pushes back against the pillows that she’s propped up against Raven’s bed frame and throws her legs in Raven’s lap. “What’s really bothering you about this girl anyway? She’s a bitch, so what? We’ve been at this school for three years and had to deal with a hundred other girls more bitchy than her.”

Raven nods. “She’s right.” She reaches into the pouch of Octavia’s hoodie and pulls out a candy bar. Octavia snatches it back before she can take it and there’s a telepathic scuffle of sorts. They both cling to one side of the candy bar. Raven raises an eyebrow, Octavia makes a face, and Raven purses her lips.

Raven wins.

“She’s my roommate, I at least want to have somewhere I can relax without being criticized every second of every day.” On the one hand, she knows she can always come here. Raven and Octavia hadn’t even questioned it when she’d showed up and asked to stay the night. But she still wants that in her own room. She wants to be able to offer someone else that same courtesy. “Everything I do is wrong. Everything I say is wrong. Nothing is right, nothing is good enough for her. I feel like I have to impress her or something and she doesn’t even deserve that.” She reaches into the bag of chocolate and finds nothing. Clarke balls up the plastic bag and pitches it into a trashcan. “It’s like being at home all over again.” She chews on the inside of her lip and avoids the pity stares that are no doubt coming from the pair on Raven’s bed. “Can we just talk about something else?”

“Sure thing.” Octavia says, reaching out to clap Raven’s shoulder. “Hey, why don’t you tell Clarke all about your new boyfriend.”

Raven rolls her eyes and unwraps the candy bar. “God, are you ever gonna relax about that? It was _one_ kiss. And I already told you, it was last summer.”

“One kiss with my _brother_.” Octavia says, crossing her arms against her chest.

Okay, _what_? Clarke barely has time to recover before they go back to arguing.

“I still don’t get why you were so secretive about it.”

Raven’s hands are rested against Octavia’s legs in her lap and she rubs circles against her skin absentmindedly with her thumb. She shrugs. “Didn’t seem important.”

Clarke sits up. “Wait, back up. You kissed _Bellamy_?”

“Seriously, you guys are blowing this up. It was nothing, alright? It was over a year ago, I was  going through some stuff, I just wanted to make out with someone.”

“And you picked Bellamy.”

Raven looks at her pointedly and shrugs a shoulder. “What can I say, Blakes have good genes.”

That shuts Octavia up for a second. Her smile turns cocky. “Damn right.”

“You sound like your brother.” Raven comments.

“You would know, wouldn’t you?”

Raven’s jaw drops in mock offense. “You little–” She doesn’t finish what she was going to say because she lunges for Octavia instead, tackling her into the bed and tickling at her sides, simultaneously pulling a shriek from Octavia and making Clarke feel like she probably shouldn’t be in the room anymore.

She’s gotten used to that feeling lately.

Raven and Octavia have been best friends for years, long before the three of them met in freshman year. They spend their summers in Rhode Island with their families. Clarke has visited, of course, they’ve taken more than their fair share of trips to each other’s homes, but most of her summers are spent in California with her Dad.

Her Mom gets the holidays, and had she not sent her to boarding school since she was 14, she would have gotten fall, winter, and spring, too.

She’s used to the sudden changes from them. In their junior year, they’d both shown up with navel piercings on the first day of class, courtesy of a cousin of Raven’s. In sophomore year, they’d both cut their hair tragically short when one of the kids they babysat took a pair of scissors to the left side of Raven’s hair. Raven’s hairdresser did what she could to work with it and Octavia had her hair cut in solidarity the same day. Change wasn’t new to Clarke.

But this – the combination of comfort and awkwardness between them – this was new. She didn’t want to go there. Of course there had always been the rumors, they’d requested to be roommates since their freshman year. There were always rumors around friends like Raven and Octavia. But Clarke was above that.

Still, she can’t help but smile when Raven stops tickling Octavia and collapses against her chest in a fit of laughter.

–

She’s staring at a page of notes on derivatives when the usually unoccupied chair next to her is pulled out. A bag comes down on the table next to Clarke and somebody sits. She doesn’t pay much attention – truthfully, her first thought is that if they’re nice enough, maybe they’ll let her copy their notes.

She shouldn’t have spent the first week of Calculus doodling in her notebook. Still, she did get a wicked sketch of a dragon done. Clarke  thinks Octavia might like it as a binder cover or something. She should color it.

The girl next to her coughs and Clarke looks up.

It’s Lexa, and she restrains the urge to roll her eyes. Maybe Lexa is the note-taking type. She’s not really in a great place to be a bitch right now.

“Hey.”

Lexa doesn’t say anything, but she sat down for a reason, so Clarke tries again. “What’s up?”

“I wanted to apologize for the way that I acted the other night.” It’s the first time she’s spoken to her in days, Clarke realizes. “I was wrong, you weren’t being immature, I was.”

Clarke nods. “Thanks.”

She almost wonders if Lexa’s gaze is lingering on her lips or if she’s zoning out, and then Lexa looks down at her notebook and flips to a blank page. “I think it’s best if we don’t argue so much. It would certainly make our lives easier, don’t you agree?” She writes the date and the textbook section at the top of her page in neat handwriting.

Clarke blows out a long breath, sits up in her chair and nods. “Cease fire, huh?” She asks, just as Mr. Miller walks into the classroom and starts to write something on the board. Equations. Equations that she’s supposed to turn into derivatives. It’s all french to her. Or greek, actually. She speaks french.

“Yes. A cease fire.”

“Works for me.”

Lexa actually smiles at her and she makes a mental note to tell Octavia and Raven that she _can_ smile, and it’s actually... a really nice one.

“I do have one question, though.”

Lexa tenses, but nods for her to go on.

“Do you have any idea how the hell derivatives work?”

–

Their cease fire last approximately two days. Two and a half, really. The first night is calm enough. Lexa helps her edit her AP Lit paper. Nobody complains about the music. Nobody argues. Nobody turns their AP Lit paper in past it’s 10 p.m. deadline. Clarke spends most of the second night in Raven and Octavia’s dorm and only stumbles in past curfew. It was a peaceful cease fire, while it lasted.

Now they’re yelling about something – who is responsible for which side of the room, what is none of Lexa’s business, and what justifiably _is_. Sometime between Clarke asking her if the stick up her ass needs medical attention and Lexa reprimanding her for turning a legitimate discussion into a petty argument, there’s a knock on their door.

Clarke’s eyes go wide and she cringes. “ _Shit_.”

“Answer it.”

“Why me?”

She doesn’t know why. Clarke’s been at this school longer, maybe she knows how to get out of trouble. Lexa doesn’t have a solid reason, all she knows is she can’t get in trouble.

“Clarke, if they call my parents and say I got in trouble–”

She seems to understand that, because she softens. “I’ll handle it. Just... sit down. Play dead.”

Lexa takes a seat in her desk chair and shuffles a few papers on the table as Clarke swings the door open.

“Headmaster Jaha. What brings you to our room on this... lovely Friday night.”

Lexa watches the man outside the door out of the corner of her eye. He’s tall, imposing, and well dressed. The kind of man that demands respect with everything he does.

“I believe I heard shouting, Ms. Griffin.”

“Shouting?” Clarke feigns ignorance and then slaps her hand to her forehead. “You mean our audition practice?”

“Audition practice...” He repeats.

“For the play. We don’t have the actual script, of course, so my roommate here wrote one of her own as a replacement. So we could practice before audition night, you know?” She takes a few steps into the room and picks a pile of papers off of their dresser. Lexa knows it’s a bluff, but the way Clarke scans the sheet of paper and shrugs makes her want to believe it. “I mean, it’s a work in progress, and frankly a little dull. I thought I’d liven it up with some emotional turmoil between the characters. I didn’t realize how loud we were.”

The headmaster narrows his eyes. He doesn’t buy it. She expects he must to be used to Clarke’s usual shenanigans by now.

“I’d have us reenact the next scene for you but uh, I’m not sure it would be appropriate. It was really written for the part of a boy and a girl. It’s...” She turns the pages on their side in her hand and runs her fingers down the side of the page. “A little passionate, if you get my meaning.” Lexa feels her blood run cold at the implication. Clarke raises her eyebrows and waits for him to admit defeat. He does.

“No need.” He nods at them. “Just keep it down.” After a moment of thought he adds, “And maybe skip that scene.”

“Will do.” Clarke smiles brilliantly at him and moves to shut the door. “Say hi to Wells for me.”

The headmaster looks almost dazed as she waves goodbye to him, but Lexa knows the effect Clarke can have. She almost pities him.

The wooden door shuts behind Clarke and she leans up against it, laughing softly. “You’re welcome for that.”

“That was unbelievable.”

Clarke pushes herself off the door and flops down onto her bed. “I know, right? Hard to believe there’s anyone left in this school that thinks I’m actually straight.”

Lexa’s eyes snap up to meet Clarke’s. That right there. That’s a game changer. And not one she wants. “You’re not?”

“Hell no. Who is in this place, though?” She asks with a grin, making Lexa’s life a lot harder all at once.

Lexa doesn’t hesitate. “Me.”

Clarke’s smile slides off her face. Her jaw drops just subtlely. For a split second, she looks something between vulnerable and offended. Maybe that was rhetorical. Lexa thought it would feel good to just say it.

It doesn’t. She feels cold.

“Oh.” Clarke nods and sits up. “Okay. I just meant it’s not as common as you would think. For a private school, anyway. I’m sure you’re not the minority here.”

Somehow that doesn’t make her feel better. Lexa stands up and points to the bathroom. “I just need to...”

Clarke doesn’t offer her anything past a grunt of recognition as she pulls a book from her side table and flips to the first page.

When Lexa locks herself in the bathroom, it takes her less than a minute to cry for the first time in weeks.

–

Raven slides her tray across the cafeteria table to sit one seat over, directly in front of Clarke. Clarke can see it in her eyes, and Octavia’s, too. This is serious business for them.

“No way. How the hell did you just _ask_ her?”

“I didn’t.” She explains with a shrug. She picks at the sticker on her apple and ignores the rest of her lunch. “It just came up.”

Octavia shakes her head, looking baffled. “Uh, hello? Can you write a book on this or something? Straight Girls For Dummies?”

Raven nods. “Yeah, I’m gonna need a step by step version of this. Preferably with pictures. I once spent almost an entire year trying to figure out if this girl I knew was straight or not.”

Octavia turns. “Who?”

“Just some girl in my Physics class.”

“Was she?”

“Yeah. Doesn’t matter anyway, I don’t even remember her name.” Raven lays her palms flat against the table. “What matters here is Clarke not telling us how she asked.”

“I’m telling you, I _didn’t_ ask. She just came out and told me. Straight up.”

Octavia stabs her plate of teriyaki chicken with her fork and laughs. “That’s like, a double pun, but somehow it cancels itself out.”

“Good one.” Clarke says. She tries to force a smile but it really doesn’t work.

Raven’s shoulders slump. “You’re bummed.”

“What? No, I don’t care.” She twirls the apple stem between her fingers until it breaks off. She can feel Octavia staring at her, one eyebrow raised and all kinds of judgement at the ready.

Clarke breaks. “I don’t know, maybe. I guess I was hoping.”

“Seriously? Lexa?”

Okay, for the record – Raven Reyes is an absolute hypocrite and right now, kind of an asshole. Clarke doesn’t tell her as much, but she figures the glare she shoots her does it for her.

“She’s not all that bad all the time. I mean, we want to rip each other’s heads off most of the time, but... sometimes she actually does smile, by the way.”

“Uh oh,” Raven says. “Someone’s got it bad.”

Octavia elbows her.

“She just seems like the kind of person who would make a good friend if you were on her good side.”

“And you’re upset because your potential _friend_ is straight?”

Clarke kicks her underneath the table. “Shut up, Octavia, you have a crush on a teacher.”

Raven scoffs. “Low blow, Griffin.”

True. But she’s capable of lower blows. Even if she does like to think she’s above assuming things without asking. She shoves a spoonful of rice in her mouth while she watches Octavia whisper something in Raven’s ear. Raven laughs and Clarke decides not to ask anytime soon.

–

She’s really pretty.

That’s what Clarke notices when they’re tucked into the back of the library sharing the laptop they rented for the hour to finish their Human Anatomy homework. It’s not like she hadn’t noticed before – it’s _Lexa_ she’s talking about, of course she’d noticed – but being this close to someone for this long makes you notice the little things. The softness of her skin. Her lips. The flecks of gold in her green eyes. She’s looking at her like a goddamned lovestruck poet.

It’s just a crush. One she’s been denying for a while now. One she’s gonna keep on denying.

But her Dad was right, she really doesn’t know how to do things halfway, does she? Liking Lexa came out of left field and hit her like a ton of bricks.

The library only had one plug available when their laptop had run out battery, so they’d sat on the floor, their backs against the wall in the back of the library for the last half hour or so. Lexa was the faster typer. Clarke worked, Lexa typed, and Clarke tried to keep the staring to a minimum.

“I have a question.”

“I’m typing.”

Clarke ignores her. “What are you taking a Human Anatomy course for? There’s not even twenty kids in the class and I’m pretty sure most of their parents are doctors.”

Lexa’s hands still against the keyboard. “I couldn’t sign up for my classes until a few weeks ago. Most of the classes I wanted were full. I didn’t have much of a choice.”

“Oh.”

“What about you?”

“Hm?”

“Why are you in this course?”

Small talk. Not really Lexa’s style.

“I’m going to be a cardiothoracic surgeon.”

Lexa laughs softly and goes back to typing. “You sound so sure of yourself.”

“I am.” Clarke stretches her legs out and crosses them. “I can’t remember wanting to be anything but a doctor. I was a doctor for six halloweens in a row.”

“And the cardiothoracic part?”

She almost says it, but the words die on the tip of her tongue. She’s never told anybody. It didn’t even make sense, really. Why would she tell anyone? Why would they even ask? Even her Mom hadn’t asked her why she had chosen a special so young. She’d been called ambitious, and she was, but nobody before Lexa had bothered to ask.

And for whatever reason, she wants to tell her.

“I had a boyfriend when I was fifteen.”

Lexa’s eyebrows furrow just slightly. Probably at the boyfriend part, but she’s used to that.

“His Dad had a heart condition, to put it simply. He needed a coronary artery bypass surgery and the surgeon operating on him made a mistake. He told Finn and his Mom that there were _complications_. He died on the operating table.” Clarke looks up from where her eyes had drifted to her lap. “Have you ever been in love?”

Lexa’s mouth opens and shuts clumsily. She blinks and nods.

“I really hope you don’t know what it’s like to see someone you love in that much pain. You’ll do anything to help. You’ll do anything to make their life worth living again. You’ll say anything to fix what was never your fault. It broke my heart to see him like that. So I told him I would be a heart surgeon one day, for whatever it was worth.”

“You did it for him?” She asks.

“I never expected it to stick. I just wanted him to feel better. I mean, the pain of losing his Dad, that was inevitable. I thought maybe I could make it hurt a little less.” She wonders if she should feel silly. It still feels like the right choice, even now. “Wouldn’t you have done it? If the guy you were in love with,” Clarke says, trying to ignore what she thinks could be jealousy, if she let herself feel it, “Was going through something like that?”

Lexa nods. “I have no doubt I would have told them the same thing. If I thought it would help.”

“Them?”

“Him.” She corrects herself.

Clarke narrows her eyes while Lexa goes back to typing. _That’s_ not nothing.

–

In fact, the more she thinks about it, it’s probably _something_. She waits until she’s sure to ask. This isn’t something Clarke wants to screw up.

She only realizes she’s sure when Lexa turns off the lamp by her bedside table and turns over to sleep, an hour after Clarke had gotten into bed.

She can’t sleep. And it’s then that she realizes she wants to ask. But it’s also then that she realizes she doesn’t know _what_ to ask.

“Lexa?”

She hears sheets rustling and Lexa’s bed creaking. “Why are you still awake, Clarke?”

Maybe she shouldn’t just ask. She does have a question, though. “Can I ask you something?”

Lexa doesn’t offer her a response, but Clarke doesn’t wait for one.

“You know I’m not straight. Does that bother you?”

There’s a delay. A significant one, and Clarke already knows she’s about to hear a lie before Lexa even says a word.

“Of course not.”

“Be honest.”

Lexa sighs, and after a beat, “Yes. It bothers me.”

Wow. Still hurts to hear it. She doesn’t know if it’s because she was hoping for acceptance or... the other thing.

Probably the other thing.

“Why?”

“It’s a sin, Clarke.”

Clarke barks out a laugh before she can control herself. “Jesus, what century are you even from? A sin?”

“Yes. It’s a sin. Maybe you don’t respect the word of God, but I do.” She says matter-of-factly.

Her initial amusement fades quickly. “Right. Whatever you say.” Clarke rolls over to face the wall.

She’s nowhere near sleep when Lexa talks again, but she probably should be.

“Can I ask _you_ something, Clarke?”

“Sure.”

“You had a boyfriend.”

She rolls her eyes. “You know what, I change my mind. You can google that one, it’s called bisexuality.”

Lexa’s sigh is an exasperated one. “That’s not what I was going to ask.”

“Fine. What.”

“If you like boys, why would you ever want to be with a girl?”

Maybe she’s tired, maybe she’s shallow, but the first thing that comes to her mind is “uh, _boobs_ ”. She suspects that’s not really the answer Lexa is looking for.

“What?”

“I just mean... If you could be interested in guys, wouldn’t it just be easier? To ignore how you feel around girls. To ignore being attracted to them. To ignore what they make you want to–” Her voice drops until all Clarke can hear is the hum of their air conditioner. “To just ignore it.”

“You sound just like my mother.”

“It’s just a question, Clarke. You don’t need to be so difficult.”

She does think about it. Just for a moment. The way Lexa asked wasn’t cruel. It wasn’t selfish. It wasn’t condescending. She was used to that kind of question, but it had never sounded so _desperate_.

“Yeah, I guess it would be easier. But I’m not about to stop being me just because society says I’m doing it wrong.”

Lexa doesn’t say anything else.

“Can I ask you a question, Lexa?”

She hears nothing, but she knows she’s awake.

“Was that _just_ a question?”

She’s seconds away from taking it back when Lexa says, “We should rest, Clarke. It’s late.”

Clarke doesn’t bother to fight the smile on her face.

Yeah. That’s what she thought.

–

“You, my friend,” Raven says, offering Clarke a drink from her thermos. It’s definitely not carrying orange juice, no matter what she tells their teachers. “Are royally fucked.”

They’re sitting on the bench in one of the school’s gazebos and Raven’s not wrong, so Clarke takes the thermos from her hand and tosses back a mouthful and a half of whatever mixture she and Fox made this time. It burns. Not half bad, though.

“What’s the difference between regularly fucked and royally fucked?”

Raven takes back the thermos and screws the cap on. “Regularly fucked is a crush on your roommate. Royally fucked is a crush on your roommate who happens to be the Ice Queen.”

Is it possible to nod bitterly? If it is, she thinks that’s what she’s probably doing right now.

“You think there’s a chance she likes you back?”

Clarke laughs. She considers asking for the thermos again, this is starting to seem like a conversation she needs to be drunk for. “Raven, she’s either a homophobic, biphobic, conservative snob looking for a rebellious phase or she’s the definition of a closet case.”

“Can’t be that bad. It’s 2015, c’mon.”

“I joked about people at this school being gay and she didn’t waste any time letting me know how straight she was.”

Raven throws her backpack against the arm of the bench and takes her sweater off. “Shit. Ask her how Narnia is these days, it’s been a while since I’ve seen that Jesus lion guy.” She folds her sweater and leans it against her backpack, moving to lean against the arm of the bench. She throws her legs over Clarke’s lap.

“Will do. After that, I’ll invite her to the next Pride, I’m sure it’ll go over just as smoothly.”

Octavia’s head pops up over the side of the gazebo. “Did someone say Pride?”

“More like prejudice.” Raven says, offering Octavia a hand to pull her over the side, because Octavia Blake is too adventurous for anything as simple as taking the steps. Raven pulls back her legs and Octavia clumsily situates herself between them.

She pats Raven’s knee. “Scoot.”

“You scoot.”

“I just got here, I’ve got nowhere to scoot.”

“Well find somewhere to scoot, we got here first.”

Clarke stands up. “I’ll scoot. I should go home and study anyway, there’s a pop quiz in Lit tomorrow.”

“How do you know there’s a pop quiz if it’s a pop quiz?” Raven asks while she repeatedly runs her shoulder into Octavia’s like that’s going to do anything about the fact that she wants to sit in the middle seat of a two-seat bench.

“Lincoln caved and told me the quiz schedule when I asked nicely.”

That gets Octavia’s attention. “Ooh did you say hi to Professor D for me?”

Clarke almost turns and leaves, but she can’t resist. She cringes. “Professor D? Really? Please tell me the D doesn’t stand for what I think it does.”

Raven rolls her eyes. “It’s worse, the D is for dreamy.”

Okay, she can see that. Lincoln is pretty dreamy. But he’s also pretty _way too old._

“O, he’s like the nicest English teacher we could ask for, please don’t get him fired before he gives me an A.”

“Yeah, seriously.” Raven gives up on moving Octavia and just leans into her side. “Is he even your type?”

“Uh, handsome? Funny? Feminist ideals? What’s not to have wildly inappropriate fantasies about?”

“ _His age_ ,” Clarke and Raven say together.

“Details.”

Clarke rolls her eyes and picks up her bag, slinging it over her shoulder. She’s not actually worried. Octavia’s all talk, at least when it comes to things like that. She likes to believe she doesn’t listen to anyone’s advice, but in the end she’s always listened to Raven.

“Alright, I’m gonna go study and try not to think about–”

“Your pitiful crush on your gorgeous homophobic roommate.” Raven finishes.

Octavia looks at Raven, Clarke, and then back at Raven. “Back up, what’d I miss?”

“I’ll fill you in later.”

“You have a thing for Lexa? Like? Officially?”

Clarke groans. “Kiiiiind of. Yes. Maybe a little thing.”

She looks at Raven and rests her arm on Raven’s shoulder. “You tell her she’s royally fucked?”

“Told her.”

She looks at Clarke and nods. “You’re royally fucked.”

“Thank you, Octavia, for all your sound advice.”

“Alright, fine. Doctor O in the house.”

Clarke rolls her eyes. Doctor O is a joke they’ve had since sophomore year when Octavia, having believed herself to be a natural born entrepreneur, started selling her advice to any gullible freshman with too much loose change in their pockets and a justifiable amount of skepticism for the confidentiality of going to confession. She rounded up a lot of secrets that weren’t hers to tell, along with at least 300 dollars that wasn’t hers to spend.

“Doctor O says you really have to get this roommate crush under control before it gets out of hand. Figure out if it’s mutual, and if it’s not, bury it. FedEx overnight ship that shit to another country if you have to.” She ruffles Raven’s hair. “God knows this one’s been suffering with a roommate crush for years now.”

Raven pushes her off. “Shut up, gross.” It doesn’t have the usual veil of humor that comes with those sort of remarks when they’re coming from Raven. What it does come with is the familiar sight of Raven closing in on herself.

Clarke frowns and then changes the subject. “What happens if I try something and I screw everything up.”

Octavia shrugs. “You’re a big girl, it’s not like it’ll end your life. Shrug it off and move on.”

If only it were that easy.

–

Thanks to Lincoln, she does pass the Lit quiz. She didn’t _technically_ read the required reading, but apparently Lexa had, and that’s why Clarke takes her hand when she sees her in the hallway. Lexa looks down at where Clarke has their fingers laced together and stares until it’s almost awkward.

“You’re a lifesaver, I aced the quiz. You wanna go somewhere with me?” She asks.

Lexa pulls her hand back and there’s really nothing subtle about the way she does it. Clarke decides that’s okay. She really only took her hand to get her attention. She doesn’t know what she was expecting.

“Where?”

“I’ll show you, follow me.” She hooks her finger around the strap of Lexa’s shoulder bag and drags her through the hallways, dodging questions about where they’re going and what they’re doing until they reach the double doors of the auditorium.

Clarke looks around for any teachers. They’re in the clear, so she pushes the door open and motions for Lexa to follow after her. They sneak into one of the middle rows of the empty auditorium. Clarke drops herself into a seat when they’re halfway into the row. It’s not a bad view of the stage. Not a good one, either, but they won’t get caught from here.

“Clarke, I don’t think we’re supposed to be in here right now.”

She puts her backpack in the seat on her left and turns to Lexa. “Sit down, that’s the whole point.”

“Will we get in trouble?”

“Only if Mrs. Tsing catches us.” Clarke eyes the weary expression on Lexa’s face. She really doesn’t like the idea of getting in trouble. “She’s uptight about auditions, she thinks an audience distracts her casting process.”

Lexa relaxes when she hears a shuffle behind them. Four rows back, a group of girls slide into their seats. They’re not the only ones here. It’s a big auditorium and usually a scattered group of ten students or so can get away with watching the auditions.

“What are they auditioning for?”

“The school play.” Clarke props her feet up on the seat in front of her. “Grease. We’re watching for Octavia.”

“What is she auditioning for?” Lexa leans back in her chair. She stretches her legs out and crosses her ankles. Clarke smiles. It’s good to see her relax.

“Have you met Octavia yet? She’s going for the lead.”

Lexa frowns. “She doesn’t seem like the Sandy type.”

Clarke can’t help but grin at the fact that Lexa knows the characters by heart. Sure, everyone’s seen Grease, but nothing on earth could stop her from imagining Lexa knowing the words to  Greased Lightning now. “Please, she’s going for John Travolta’s part.”

Lexa actually laughs and Clarke wonders if anyone else at this school has made her laugh like that yet. “Okay, I can see that, actually.”

“Right?”

“It makes more sense.” Lexa drums her fingers over the armrest between them. “It’s funny... in public school, they never would have let a girl try out for the role of a boy.”

Clarke nods. “The joys of an all-girl private school.” She supposes it’s something she’s taken for granted for a long time. “It’s either Octavia or Mr. Miller. He seems a little old for the role.”

They laugh together until the stage lights come on and a freshman girl steps out onto the middle of the stage. She starts to sing and Clarke feels a little bad for cringing at her high note. She really does seem to be trying.

“It’s just strange,” Lexa whispers, “How religious private boarding school is somehow more liberal than a public school. In some ways.”

Clarke nods and turns to look at her in the dark. “In more ways than you’d think.”

Lexa stares at her until Clarke’s mouth goes dry.

“Where’s your other friend? Reyes? Don’t you three do everything together?”

Observant. She’d be lying if she wasn’t a little flattered that Lexa noticed.

“She’s backstage. When Octavia told her she wanted to audition, Raven signed up for being part of the backstage crew. She said she didn’t even have to wait, ‘cause she knew Octavia would get the part.” If she’s sure of anything, she’s sure that Octavia and Raven are backstage right now, probably shittalking the competition and practicing lines. “They do everything together.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“I know what you’re thinking. It’s not–”

“I wasn’t–”

“They’re not dating.”

Lexa shakes her head. “I wasn’t thinking that.”

“What were you thinking?”

“I–” She falters. With a shrug, she admits defeat. “I might have thought it once or twice.”

“Everyone thinks it.” If she knew it wouldn’t give Lexa the wrong idea, she would admit to having thought about it too. Especially recently. But it isn’t any of her business.

“What do you think?”

“I think...” She thinks of the way they look at each other. The way they protect each other. The way they always choose each other. She smiles. “I think they’ve been friends since they were two. And I think whatever happens between them, it should be at their own pace.”

“Don’t you think it’s a waste? Imagine wanting someone for all that time, but they spend it...” She lets out a deep breath and it’s something between a laugh and a sigh. “Pretending to be something they’re not.”

“Not a waste.” Clarke shakes her head. “They’re together, even if they aren’t hooking up or anything.” She knows them, she’s seen the way they are, and she already knows what they have is stronger than any relationship she’s ever had.

“What if they want to be together like that?” Lexa looks at her, licks her lips, and Clarke starts to get the idea that maybe they’re not talking about Octavia and Raven.

Oh. Maybe they haven’t been talking about them for a while, actually.

Clarke pulls her feet back and sits up, pushing herself a little closer to Lexa. She doesn’t move away. “Then they should go for it.”

“Should they?” Lexa asks while seemingly abandoning all hope at looking at anything but Clarke’s lips. Clarke doesn’t really mind.

She leans in a little. “If it’s what they really want.”

Lexa’s eyes meet Clarke’s. “I think so, too.”

They’re close enough now that she wouldn’t even have to try that hard to do it. She could kiss her. Lexa licks her lips and Clarke hesitates.

And then she leans in.

Clarke closes the distance between them and presses her lips against Lexa’s. It’s a chaste kiss. It doesn’t last long. Lexa’s mouth doesn’t move against hers, but she swears she can feel her push against her, pushing into the kiss.

It’s not even three seconds before Lexa pulls back. “Clarke, I don’t–”

“Why not?” Clarke pulls back, putting enough space between them to make Lexa more comfortable. It does nothing to stop the haze she puts Clarke’s mind in.

“I told you.”

Clarke chuckles softly. “‘Cause it’s a sin?”

“Yes.”

Lexa hasn’t made any efforts to move back, and if she thinks this goes unnoticed, she’s seriously misinformed.

“Tell me you don’t want it.”

“I don’t.” Lexa almost chokes on her words and she can see how little truth is in those words, but she won’t go any further. Not without permission.

Clarke’s back falls into her chair again. “Lying is a sin too, you know that?”

Lexa locks her jaw, fumbles for her bag, and stands up. She doesn’t say a word.

She walks away.

Clarke drops her head in her hands and curses to herself.

Two weeks into the semester and she’s already fucked it up. That has to be a record.

–

“I... kissed her, I guess.” She admits into her phone with a cringe. On the one hand, she had to tell them. They’re her best friends. But there’s no good way to tell someone you just got rejected.

“Hold up, for real?” Raven’s voice comes through the receiver before Octavia’s cuts in. “What do you mean you _guess_? Was it dark, did you trip and put your tongue in someone’s mouth?”

“No– I mean, yes, it was dark. But it was her and there was no tongue. It was very... gentle.” With a pout, she adds, “And short-lived.” She decides to leave it at that, because she really doesn’t feel like telling Octavia that she’d barely paid any attention to her audition since she had still been recovering from being rejected and insulted in a single blow.

“What’d she do?”

Clarke sighs. “She told me I was a sinner and ran away.”

Octavia is the first to laugh. It only takes a few seconds for Raven to join in and then even Clarke starts to smile. It actually is kind of ridiculous, when she thinks about it.

Raven tries to change the subject while Octavia just keeps laughing. “Did she kiss you back at all?”

“Yeah, a little.” Although, the more she relives it, the more she thinks maybe she had imagined it.

“Then it’s just like you said,” Raven reasons, “Total closet-case. All you gotta do is open the door.”

Clarke rolls on her side on the bed. Across from her, Lexa’s side of the room is empty. She still hasn’t come back. “Maybe she doesn’t want that. I don’t have the right to push her out of the closet if she’s not ready.”

“She’s right.” Raven says, talking to Octavia on the other line.

“What if she just... knocks?” Octavia proposes.

On the metaphorical closet door? Clarke considers it. Then again, kissing her was probably about the loudest knocking she could do. She practically ripped the door off its hinges.

Outside her actual door, she hears a key sliding into the lock and turning the doorknob. Clarke feels her stomach flip – she really hadn’t prepared herself to see Lexa again. Not yet.

“Guys, I gotta go.”

“Is it her?”

“Love you,” She says, sitting up.

“That’s a yes,” She hears Octavia say. “We love you too, good luck.”

Clarke stands up and hangs up the phone just in time for Lexa to open the door. She lingers, keeping her hand on the doorknob.

“Hi.”

Clarke offers her a tentative smile. “Hi.”

Lexa closes the door behind her and that’s when Clarke regrets standing up, because now they’re just two idiots standing in the middle of their room, too scared to make a move.

“I’m sorry about earlier.” They both say at the same time. Clarke rubs her hands together and laughs a little.

Lexa frowns. “I’m not angry at you, Clarke.”

“Freaked out?”

“No.”

She blows out a long breath in relief. That’s good. That’s better than she thought. Maybe she’s overthinking things.

“For what it’s worth, I’m not mad either.”

Lexa nods and drops her bag on the desk. It brings her a few steps closer to Clarke.

“I get it. You like girls and that freaks you out.” The minute she says it, Clarke can actually feel her self-hatred growing. She just did the exact thing she told Octavia and Raven she _wouldn’t_ do. She’s not knocking on the closet door, she’s ripping it open and dragging her out. She practically has a lasso. But she’s already said it, and Lexa hasn’t tried to shove a bible down her throat, so maybe she can roll with it.

“We’ve all been there. It sure scared the hell out of me when I started figuring it out.”

Lexa seems frozen, but after a few seconds of watching Clarke she asks, “When did you realize?”

“Freshman year.”

Clarke was fifteen, and her name was Lauren.

Lexa laughs, but every trace of it is bitter and hollow. Clarke ignores the way her eyes are shining. She figures Lexa wouldn’t want her to notice.

“I was eleven.”

Her shoulders slump as if admitting it lifts a weight off her chest. Or maybe it means the weight of the world falls on her shoulders. Maybe it’s both. Clarke wonders if she’s the first person Lexa has ever told.

Lexa steps closer. “What did you do in freshman year? When you figured it out. How did you handle it?”

Skipping all the gory details, Clarke just shrugs. “I kissed a girl. Nobody got hurt, so I thought I’d do it again.”

With another step closer, Lexa says, “And?”

They’re a lot closer now, but Clarke stands her ground. She won’t make the same mistake twice. “And nobody got hurt.”

For a fraction a moment, anything could happen. Clarke could kiss her, but she won’t. Lexa could run, but she won’t. She wouldn’t blame her if she did. Clarke feels like running, too.

She doesn’t see it coming when Lexa bites her lip, steps closer, and cups the back of her head, pulling her into a soft kiss. Clarke doesn’t fight it – God, why would she? Lexa’s lips are soft and consistent. They move against Clarke’s with purpose, parting her lips until Lexa can pull on Clarke’s bottom lip just long enough to make her forget why she shouldn’t be fighting for what this could turn into for them.

When Lexa pulls back, her hand drifts down to Clarke’s neck.

“See?” Clarke asks, “Nobody got hurt.”

“Speak for yourself.”

Clarke surges forward again to capture her lips and this time, Lexa is more than eager to kiss her back. She tilts her head to deepen the kiss. Clarke can feel Lexa’s tongue slide against her bottom lip, asking for permission, and Clarke is more than willing to give it in every way she can. She weaves a hand through Lexa’s curly hair and wonders at what point she had undone it from the bun she usually wears.

With her free hand, Clarke pulls her closer and smiles against her lips. She pulls back just long enough to say, “Not bad, right?”

Lexa just shakes her head, not even bothering to say anything before she kisses Clarke again. It’s a little less gentle and a lot more urgent than she was expecting, but she’s not complaining. Lexa’s hands are firm on her hips, pulling Clarke against her in ways that probably don’t count as innocent – especially with the way she nips at her lip and then leans in to kiss her harder. Clarke meets her halfway and sometimes more. She kisses back, pushes back, bites back, until there’s nothing remotely soft or sweet about the kiss. Does it even count as a kiss anymore? It’s been about twenty kisses, probably, and Lexa isn’t done yet. She feels it in the way her tongue moves against hers and she _definitely_ feels it when Lexa turns them and pushes Clarke until her back meets the wooden door of their room.

Lexa stops to breathe for a second and then kisses her again – hot, hard, and determined, but quick. When she pulls back again, she looks her up and down. Clarke feels like she’s being searched. Or mentally undressed. Maybe it’s the same thing. This is already way more than she expected.

Between their labored breaths, she asks, “You’re not gonna run away, are you?”

Lexa shakes her head no, and then with just four words, changes everything.

“Take your clothes off.”

Raven and Octavia are never going to believe this. That’s the first thought she has. The second thought is: she doesn’t need to be asked twice.

The first thing she loses is her tie. She loosens it and pulls it over her head and then makes quick work of her uniform skirt, sliding it off and kicking it to the side. She’d already lost her shoes hours ago. That’s good, that’s just less time for her to waste. Something tells her even the smallest waste of time could give Lexa enough pause to figure out she doesn’t want any part in this.

Even though she _does_. Lexa isn’t subtle about the hungry way she watches Clarke undo the buttons on her blouse. Clarke can’t resist – she undoes the last button and then wraps Lexa’s tie around her fist and pulls her in for another kiss. Lexa’s blazer is pushed off her shoulders moments later and then Lexa’s hands grip at Clarke’s sides underneath her open blouse.

This is _seriously_ way more than she expected from Lexa.

But it’s not like she hasn’t dropped her clothes for less before.

It catches her off guard every time Lexa pushes for more. She presses her against the door, tangles a hand in Clarke’s hair, and kisses her deeper, longer, harder than before. The girl who had run from a kiss just hours ago has no reservations now about pulling their hips together and pushing against Clarke’s tongue with her own.

Clarke fumbles with Lexa’s belt and takes the time to wonder how the hell Lexa manages to look good in uniform pants. There’s a reason she’s one of only four girls who wears them in the entire school. Clarke breaks the kiss to push down her pants while Lexa works at pulling off her tie and undoing her shirt. She stumbles backwards out of her shoes, her socks come off with her pants, and then they’re both tripping over themselves until they fall back on Clarke’s bed. Lexa falls first, pulling Clarke on top. It’s clumsy and there’s a bit of elbowing, but Clarke was serious about not wanting to waste any time. She straddles her and loses her blouse in one swift move.

It’s been a long time since she’s had an honest to God make out session with anyone, so Clarke lets herself savor it while she can. Lexa isn’t a bad kisser. In fact, she’s quite good. Different, but in an interesting way. There’s something exciting about not knowing what she’ll do next.

It turns out the next thing she’ll do is start bucking her hips while they kiss. Though that might not be entirely Lexa’s fault. Clarke does have a tendency to grind without really noticing what she’s doing – it makes her great at parties, not so great when she’s trying to keep things PG. Then again, they’re not really making an effort to keep things PG, are they? She decides to embrace it.

Lexa’s hands grip at her sides, but she must not think Clarke is doing enough, because her hands slide farther down her body until she’s pulling at Clarke’s hips, matching her pulls with each of her thrusts. They fall into a rhythm that way and _God does it feel good_. It turns their kisses sloppy, until their lips part and they can’t be bothered to focus on anything but the way it feels to press into each other. Clarke’s head drops into the curve of Lexa’s neck and the panting sounds in her ear are enough to drive her crazy. She could get off from this. Just this.

Clarke stops the movement of their hips and sits up. She can feel Lexa trying to buck into the pressure of where she’s sitting and it excites her, but not as much as it excites her when she shifts back and pulls Lexa up with her.

“You still have your shirt on.” She comments, tugging at Lexa’s blouse. They fix that and her shirt finds its way to the middle of their floor.

Lexa loses her bra in the same way just seconds later.

While Lexa is still sitting up, she takes advantage and trails a line of kisses down Lexa’s neck. She’s not really trying, because if Lexa asks, she wants to say she hadn’t given her any hickeys _on purpose_. But is she giving her hickeys on purpose? Kind of. And maybe Lexa catches on, because she wastes no time in taking Clarke’s bra off so that they can get this show on the road.

Clarke pulls back. Lexa flings Clarke’s bra to the side, probably breaking the world record for fastest blind bra removal. She’s not even sure she can take off her _own_ bra that fast. Lexa wasn’t even _looking_. “Have you done this before?”

“Only about a hundred times.” Lexa offers no explanation, she just rolls them over somewhat clumsily and climbs on top of her, cutting off her thoughts with a deep kiss. Lexa palms at her breasts and moves to kiss down her neck and towards her collarbone.

A hundred times, was that an exaggeration? She thought Lexa was in the closet. She decides she doesn’t have it in her to care about anything but the way Lexa’s hand slips into her underwear and gives her the kind of close contact friction she’s been aching for. Her fingers circle her clit a few times – softly at first, and then harder, working her up until Lexa pulls back and pulls her underwear out of the way. Clarke kicks the last piece of fabric away until there’s nothing between her and Lexa. Nothing to stop her from being touched.

Lexa kisses her again and it’s sloppy, but she isn’t focused on anything but Lexa’s hand. She rubs against her for a few moments. When Lexa slides a finger inside of her, she looks like she’s enjoying it even more than Clarke. Clarke shuts her eyes and grips at the bedsheets, letting Lexa do whatever the hell she wants – it’s been a while and everything feels good.

“Tell me what you want.” Lexa breathes into her ear.

Clarke brings a hand to grip at Lexa’s shoulder. “More,” She says, impatient and a little demanding. Lexa obliges her and slides in another finger. She waits for Clarke to adjust and then starts to stroke her clit with her thumb and move her fingers.

“ _More_.” She insists again. She’s expecting a third finger, but instead Lexa starts to pump her fingers and curl them forward, stroking her from inside and grinding her palm against Clarke’s clit.

“Oh my God, th– _oh_.” Her reaction is more in shock than it is in pleasure, though there’s plenty of that, too. But Lexa’s good at this. Really good. Really _fucking_ good. Clarke bucks against the palm of her hand as she pushes into her.

It doesn’t take her long to get close. Less than a minute, easily. But the last thing she wants is for this to end. She’ll take her chances of Lexa scaring off and running away.

“God, I’m actually close. Stop, wait–” Lexa pulls her hand back.

“Did I hurt you?”

“No.” Clarke lets out a deep breath. She got really close there, for a second. If she’d waited another ten seconds she’d have already finished. “I just don’t want to come yet. Let me do you.”

Lexa complies and lays down when Clarke gently pushes at her to lay on her back. Lexa looks incredible underneath her and she really has to pause for a second to get herself under control. She’s ridiculously turned on. It wouldn’t take much at all to get her off.

That’s kind of how she likes it. Always has been, for whatever reason.

And now she wants to know how Lexa likes it. She’s something of a mystery to her. Lexa’s hips rise off the bed as Clarke pulls off Lexa’s underwear slowly. She likes making a show of these things. It adds to the anticipation.

Once her underwear is gone, they’re both naked, with the exception of Clarke’s knee high socks, which Lexa makes no effort to shed her of.

They go to a boarding school. This is not Clarke’s first encounter with a girl who has a thing for the knee high socks. She leaves them on just in case she’s right.

“Come here.” Lexa reaches for her and Clarke repositions herself over Lexa’s waist. She takes a minute to just grind against her a few more times to get her worked up. Lexa squeezes her lips shut and looks at the ceiling, taking a deep breath through her nose. Clarke starts to wonder why those lips stay shut when something feels good. She wonders if she’s a screamer or something. Screamers are hot, but Lexa doesn’t seem like the type to let herself be loud.

Clarke grinds into her a few more times until it’s next to impossible to keep herself calm. She really is close to finishing herself off right here, with nothing between them anymore – just Lexa’s skin on hers. But it’s too soon. She has more stamina than that.

Clarke leans forward to kiss her before she slips her hand between them and works circles around Lexa’s clit with her fingers. First with just one finger – small circles exactly where Lexa wants them – and then with two – wide circles close enough to turn her on but too far from where they need to be to do her any good. Lexa’s mouth parts and a breathy moan escapes her.

That’s more like it. Clarke applies more pressure, still working her way farther and farther from where Lexa wants her until she’s met with grit teeth and a frustrated, “ _Clarke_.”

That’s all she wanted to hear. Clarke strokes her clit with purpose now, loving everything to do with the way Lexa bucks into her hand desperately. She takes that as her cue.

“How many–”

“Two.”

Clarke almost laughs at how eager she sounds. She strokes her until her fingers are slick enough and then slips in a finger to the hilt of her knuckle, pulls it out and slips in two at a time. And because she’s always been an overachiever, Clarke sucks at Lexa’s neck and palms her chest while she starts to pump in and out of Lexa, trying to overwhelm her as fast as possible.

It really seems to work. Lexa meets every thrust of her hand eagerly and it’s not long before the room fills with the sounds of Lexa panting and moaning softly. Clarke knows she’s holding back every time she muffles herself in Clarke’s hair or bites her lip, so she tries something new.

She tries to be a little rough. It’s not her strong suit, but she’s done it before.

She speeds up her hand and tries to imitate what Lexa had done, curling her fingers and stroking her off. With each passing second, she makes it a little rougher. A little harsher. A little faster. And she’s ready to take it down a notch whenever Lexa says the word. She waits for any stop signal to come, she _expects_ it.

What she doesn’t expect is for Lexa to clench around her fingers and come – fast, hard, and unexpected. She comes with a whine against Clarke’s ear and rides out her orgasm against Clarke’s hand. It’s easily the hottest thing she’s ever seen happen in her life and it’s happening _because_ of her, it’s happening _underneath_ her, and Clarke almost gets off on the sight of Lexa essentially fucking herself on Clarke’s fingers until she finishes.

So that’s how Lexa likes it. She can’t help but grin. _Lexa Woods likes it rough and Clarke Griffin knows it._

When Lexa finally calms down, they’re both breathing heavily and Clarke could probably get off if Lexa looked at her the right way right now.

Logically, as a future doctor with way more biology courses than she ever needed under her belt, Clarke knows that it isn’t possible for all the blood in her body to have made it’s way to the same place. But as a painfully turned on teenage girl? She’s starting to wonder if maybe she’s the exception.

“Can you,” She motions to herself and Lexa nods, pushing at her until she lies on her back. Lexa climbs over her and kisses her forehead softly.

“Thank you.”

That would be cute if every thought in her mind wasn’t some variation of the words “fuck me”. She’ll find it cute in two minutes.

Lexa cups her again and even with the smallest amount of pressure against her, Clarke can’t help but buck into her hand. Lexa slides two fingers into her and watches Clarke. She really looks like she’s enjoying this, but maybe it’s the orgasm she just had.

Lexa surges forward and presses a hard kiss to her lips before starting to pump her fingers in and out of her. Clarke wraps a leg around Lexa’s hips and thrusts up as Lexa strokes her in all the right places.

It really doesn’t take long. She’s talking _seconds_ here. Her hips rise off the bed just as she comes.

“Fuck, God–” She clenches around Lexa’s fingers and both her hands find the back of Lexa’s neck. She pulls her down for one last kiss and rides out her orgasm with Lexa’s tongue against her lips.

Lexa collapses around her when she’s finished. They stay that way for a while, Clarke trying to regulate her breathing and Lexa just laying there, with her head buried into Clarke’s neck. When Lexa rolls off of her and onto her back, Clarke chases her. She presses a soft kiss to Lexa’s forehead, mimicking her.

“Thank you.”

Lexa rolls her eyes.

Clarke laughs. “Did we really just do that?”

“We did.” Lexa nods. She doesn’t laugh, and something in the pit of Clarke’s stomach turns.

“You’re not gonna run away, are you?”

Lexa shakes her head. Clarke laces their fingers together and closes her eyes. She can feel sleep coming, and as long as Lexa isn’t going anywhere, she wouldn’t mind getting some rest.

–

When she wakes up, the clock reads 2:15 a.m. and Lexa is gone.

 

 


	2. looking for high, divine connection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> lexa makes a friend and just about everybody is in need of a nice hug.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> honestly is there anything i can even say to make up for the fact that i haven't updated in 376 days? probably not. if there is, this is it: i'll probably be posting chapter 3 within the next 48 hours :) idk a consistent update rate, never heard of it.
> 
> pro tip: listen to holy ghost by borns. it's lit fam and im 105% sure it was written with this au in mind.
> 
> and thank you so much to all the betas who proofread this and helped me make it much better than it was a day ago, y'all are the realest mvps.
> 
> oh, also: the usual triggers. internalized homophobia and general parental awfulness.

When their breathing finally settles and Lexa feels Clarke fall fast asleep in her arms, the illusion shatters and reality starts to crumble around her. It happens slowly at first - the post-orgasmic bliss fades into an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach, followed by the urge to push Clarke away, to cover herself up, to hide. But what’s the point in that? Lexa has completely exposed herself to Clarke. She’s seen her naked. Touched her. Been touched by her. Gotten herself off on her. She knows her now. Clarke already knew her when she kissed her, and now there’s nothing left for her to hide.

It’s the guilt that drives her to get out of bed and spend the better part of an hour hiding in the bathroom. It’s a suitable refuge for a while. She showers, dresses in the dark, calms her breathing, and waits for the nausea to pass.

It’s not disgust, though it _should be_. She should be disgusted by herself. But in the end, it’s fear that claws at her in their bathroom at the school that she was sent to in order to change. It’s fear that somehow, her mother will wake up tomorrow and just _know_ what she did. It’s fear of the next day, fear of Clarke, fear of herself and what it means that she essentially fell off the wagon. She’d convinced herself that her mother was right about how easy it is to give into peer pressure. She’d given into Costia and she’d given into Clarke, except both times she had more than just given in and both times there had only been one common denominator: Lexa.

She takes a deep breath and squeezes her eyes shut tight. Somehow she had really and truly convinced herself that her mother was right. That she could be different. It’s deceptively easy to believe something she wants so badly when it’s not right in front of her. When she can only relive it in overanalyzed memories and the narrative her mother had fed her. It’s almost impossible to believe it now.

Lexa spends most of the night wandering the halls and the grounds. She’s out past curfew and she should care that she might get in serious trouble for that, but she can’t find it in herself to stay in their room for another minute. Again, it’s the fear. She’s terrified.

Here’s the situation: she just _can’t_ be gay. Lexa _can’t_ want to be with girls. She’d come to this realization at a young age. She’d come to it again when she had her first kiss. She’d lost sight of it when she had met Costia - _can’t be gay_ had turned into _can’t come out_. And then she had come out.

She was pushed out. Dragged out, more like it. But regardless, it wasn’t part of the plan, so she had made a new one. Back to square one, that is. Lexa _can’t be gay._

She has no Plan C. This is it for her.

By 3 a.m, she gives in to exhaustion and the fear of being caught outside past curfew and goes back to their room, back to bed. Clarke is asleep in her own bed, her sheets pooled around her waist. Lexa respectfully looks away and keeps her distance.

When she wakes up again, it’s 8:20 and they’ve both already missed the start of class.

So she leaves. Lexa isn’t ready to look at her yet. She feels like maybe she’ll never be ready to look at her again.

She skips class, climbs the stairs of the library, and drifts between stacks of books and students huddled quietly around computers and notes. The school library, a large building in the center of the campus, has four floors. The first is the busiest, so Lexa skips it entirely. She needs to be distracted, not overwhelmed. And more than anything, she needs to be alone.

The second floor is nothing but computer labs and conference rooms. The third is nearly empty.  She wanders it for a few minutes and almost decides to lay down on one of the library’s comfortable brown couches until she catches a couple sitting together in an aisle, holding hands and whispering.

The fourth floor is silent. A gray sign on the wall reads _No Talking Beyond This Point._ Lexa spots a few students napping in chairs and on impulse, turns back to the stairway. She hesitates. If someone catches her, she’ll probably get in trouble. Maybe they’d send her home. Maybe they _should_ send her home.

She climbs the last few steps, slips through the door, and steps out onto the roof. It’s empty and the wind is howling.

It’s exactly what she needs. Lexa makes her way towards the edge and leans against the brick railing overlooking the rest of the campus. It’s both surreal and familiar to stand at the top of a building looking down on the students she feels so removed from.

She thinks of the couple on the third floor. The last time she’d held anyone that way, she’d been a different person. Happier, but for the wrong reasons. Happier, but because of Costia Martin.

Lexa sinks to the ground, leans against the railing, and presses the palms of her hands against her eyes. Tears she didn’t know she had been crying wet her skin. She wipes her nose, crosses her arms against her knees, and sinks her head into her forearms.

And then all she can do is think of Costia. She still doesn’t know what her mother did to keep her away from Lexa. Probably just threatened to out her, because that would have worked for Lexa. She hates how weak that makes her. It would have worked in a heartbeat. She’s not strong enough to try to hold her own against her parents; she wouldn’t even want to. She’s not Clarke.

Costia would have liked Clarke. Maybe. She wouldn’t have liked the situation, but neither would Lexa, had Costia slept with someone new.

Disgust and jealousy wash over her in equal measure. Jealousy at the thought of Costia with someone else, disgust at the memory of the things she let Clarke do to her and the things she did to Clarke. It’s the single most hypocritical thought she’s ever had, but her stomach turns at the thought of someone touching Costia the way she touched Clarke just hours ago. Lexa shakes her head. _How can one person be so screwed up?_

Costia would be jealous, though. She’d understand, but she would be jealous. Costia was always so much more loving, so much more accepting and compassionate than Lexa.

Lexa lifts her head, letting it fall back against the railing. She takes a deep breath. She’s managed to calm down a little - her hands aren’t shaking and her breathing is steadier - and that’s a good sign. She slides her hands into her blazer pockets and frowns. There’s a piece of paper in the left one. Lined paper, sketched on and crumpled up. She stretches it out.

It’s a drawing of a scorpion; half-shaded and forgotten. Lexa closes her eyes and rubs at her temple with her free hand. It’s Clarke’s drawing. She’s wearing Clarke’s jacket. It makes her stomach flip for more than one reason.

For a moment, she thinks she might be sick, but it passes. For a moment, she looks at Clarke’s drawing and thinks she’ll be okay. That passes too.

-

Clarke isn’t really a rule breaker. She’s not very respectful of the rules, but she definitely doesn’t go _out of her way_ to break them. Not like Raven and Octavia do. She’s had more than her fair share of detention, to the point where her mom created a fake email to give to the school so she didn’t have to sift through email after email informing her that Clarke had been sent to detention for saying something out of line. When things were bad last year, her mom had asked Thelonius to only call her when Clarke _didn’t_ need disciplinary attention, to save time.

Except she’s better now, and _usually_ , she’s not a rule breaker. But today she is, because when she wakes up late for class and Lexa still isn’t there, she decides not to bother going to class until after lunch. She’ll get Jackson to write her a note later.

She only gets out of bed to get dressed when her stomach growls, reminding her that she skipped breakfast.

“It’s alive,” Raven says when Clarke finally drops into her seat across from them in the dining hall. “Where were you this morning?”

Octavia steals a grape from Raven’s tray. “Yeah, we were counting on the juicy details.”

“Dude, you have your own grapes.”

“Yours looked better.”

Clarke runs her hand through her hair and scratches at the base of her neck. “I slept in ‘til about... 10-ish?” She tries to tug her blazer over her chest by the lapels but it comes short of closing. Clarke frowns. It’s too tight.

 _Oh_. She put on Lexa’s jacket. Which means wherever she is, Lexa is wearing hers.

“So, what happened?”

Clarke looks up and presses her lips together. She almost tells them. She had wanted to up until right now. With a shrug, she changes her mind. “Not much.”

Raven and Octavia exchange a look. “What do you mean ‘not much’? Did you talk about it?”

Clarke shakes her head and picks up a fork from her tray. “I don’t kiss and tell,” she says, lying through her teeth.

Raven steals a grape off of Octavia’s tray now, shaking her head. “You’re so full of crap, Griff.”

Raven’s got a point there.

“Wait, so that means you kissed her again?” Octavia asks. “And since when do you not kiss and tell? Have you met you?”

It’s strangely satisfying to keep this from them, she thinks. “Nothing really happened, don’t worry about it.” Clarke pushes her lunch aside in favor of the slice of pecan pie on her tray. She tries not to think about the night before, tries not to smile. She’s kind of a giddy, satisfied _happy_. The kind of happy you can only get from a night of great sex. But she also can’t help thinking that  maybe Lexa not being there when she woke up meant they took one step forward and three giant steps back. Seeing Lexa would make her feel better about the sinking feeling growing in her gut.

She said she wasn’t going to run away.

Raven smiles like she’s three steps ahead of her, and she usually is. It’s Raven, after all. “No, something happened. You just don’t want to tell us because you don’t know how _she_ feels about all this.” After a beat, she shrugs. “You like her.”

 _I do,_ she wants to say. But she can’t because she can’t explain why she feels drawn to her. It wouldn’t make sense to them.

“She’s cute,” Clarke says instead. “She has nice eyes.”

Octavia and Raven look at each other like Clarke’s just confessed her undying love for Lexa and Clarke doesn’t even bother to tell them to relax. _She’s cute_ is enough teasing material for at least two weeks in the hands of two terrors like Octavia and Raven. What was she thinking?

Lexa is cute, though. Anyone who kisses her forehead and says _thank you_ after an orgasm is definitely cute.

Octavia pouts. “You’re actually not gonna tell us anything?”

“There’s nothing to tell,” Clarke lies.

“Whatever you say... So, where is she now then?”

Clarke feels her stomach flip. She gets more nervous the more she thinks about how very absent Lexa is. “Haven’t seen her yet,” she says, crossing her arms defensively.

Raven must notice that she’s uncomfortable because just like that, the subject is dropped.

“Hey,” she starts, “You know what we should talk about?”

Octavia shrugs. “What?”

Clarke breathes out a sigh of relief that the Lexa talk is, at least for now, done with.

“Birthday plans.”

Octavia lights up. “Fuck yes, _finally_.” That even lifts Clarke’s spirits again. Octavia’s birthday is in a few weeks and thanks to Raven, it’s generally known as the best night of the year. “Bellamy’s totally gonna drive down and pick us up for the night, so what crazy shit do you want to get up to?”

Raven deliberates for a second and then grins. “Let’s go somewhere we can dance.”

She drums her fingers against the table. “We’ll need fake IDs to get into anywhere good.”

“I can arrange that.”

Whatever happens between her and Lexa, at least she has one promising night ahead of her this semester.

-

“Hey.” The moment Octavia turns a corner into another hallway, Raven turns her head and taps Clarke on the arm with the back of her hand. “Can we talk about something?”

“Yeah, what’s up?”

Raven falters. She shakes her head. “Not now, just... Sometime. You know, whenever.”

Clarke frowns at her friend’s ambiguity, but she doesn’t question it. It sounds like it matters. “Yeah. Sure.”

“Sweet,” Raven says with a grateful nod. That’s all she offers her before heading off in the direction of her next class, leaving Clarke confused and just a touch concerned in the middle of the hallway.

And that’s when she gets kidnapped.

Kidnapped is a strong word. More like forcibly relocated. Tugged into a bathroom by the arm at the hands of someone small but clearly _determined_.

Lexa.

Just seeing her again thrills Clarke as much as it makes her nervous. On the surface, Lexa looks no different than she did a day ago. Composed, intimidating, perpetually aggravated. The only difference? Clarke knows what’s under that surface now.

She fights off the nerves through flirtation. “Hey, you. You know we do share a room, you don’t really have to drag me in here to talk.” _Unless. “_ Unless you don’t want to talk.”

She closes the distance between them and kisses her. Lexa’s lips are hard and umoving under her own, unlike her hands that come up to block Clarke and push her away at the shoulders.

“Clarke, stop.”

“Oh.” Clarke pulls herself away. “Sorry.”

Lexa steamrolls through the uncomfortable moment with ease. “Did you tell them?”

“Who?”

“Anyone.” The sudden rejection makes it easier to see Lexa as she is right now. Her eyes are red rimmed, her hair is messy like she’s been outside. There’s a frantic, nervous edge to every move she makes but otherwise, she comes off as entirely composed. “Did you tell your friends about last night?”

“No.” Clarke shrugs. “ I mean, they know we kissed.”

Lexa locks her jaw and looks down, nodding.

“I didn’t tell them. I was going to. They _are_ my best friends.”

Lexa meets her eyes again. “Well, I appreciate your discretion.”

“So, where does that leave us?”

Lexa brushes at her coat, smoothing non-existent wrinkles. “It can’t happen again. Obviously.”

Clarke rolls her eyes. _Obviously?_ Nothing about this is predictable.

“A one time moment of weakness. I assume you have no venereal diseases I might have contracted?”

Clarke scoffs. Delicate as a war drum, this one is. “No, I don’t have STDs, Lexa. Thanks for asking.”

“Good,” Lexa nods. “Then we’re done here.”

That’s all she offers her before turning on her heel and leaving Clarke alone.

Again.

-

In class, things are as uncomfortable as Clarke should have expected. Her usual seat next to Lexa is empty, but Clarke doesn’t bother trying to take it. Lexa won’t look at her, keeping her head tipped forward over her textbook like she’s making a point of not meeting her eyes.

Clarke sets her jaw and doesn’t let the rejection touch her any more than she has since their talk in the bathroom. She sits in the front of the class and flashes the dark-haired girl in the seat next to her a bright smile. When she smiles back, Clarke wishes it could be this easy with a girl like Lexa.

She could get this girl’s number. She’s attractive, engaging, and nothing like her roommate. Her face is a little wider, her shoulders a little broader, and her lips not quite as full.

Clarke doesn’t even bother getting her name.

-

Saturdays are Clarke’s favorite day of the week. She doesn’t have Mass and she doesn’t have classes until ten. Raven is the same-- her weekends are mostly independent activities which is code for _do_ _whatever the fuck you want, just don’t waste your time._ Saturday mornings are peaceful. Whenever Octavia sleeps in, Raven and Clarke take advantage of the free time to catch up. The campus is quiet and the temperature has dropped enough to call it breezy.

In their gazebo - they’ve been taking mornings off together like this for years, it’s _their_ gazebo - they empty their pockets of all the food they stole from the dining hall. A few single serve boxes of cereal, a box of apple juice, a milk carton, and two thick slices of banana bread in thin paper bags.

Clarke props her arm up against the railing behind the bench and leans her head against the palm of her hand. “It’s like nothing even happened between us. Like it was before.”

Raven tucks her feet underneath her and lines up their small buffet between them. “You gotta give me something here. What actually happened with you and Lexa?”

Clarke debates with herself for a second before shaking her head. “Can’t say. I promised.”

Raven narrows her eyes and opens a box of fruit loops. “Blink twice if you made out.”

“Not happening.”

“Did she let you touch her boobs?”

“I’m not blinking for you.”

“Under the shirt or over the shirt?”

Clarke shifts in her seat. Raven grins.

“Under the shirt, nice.”

Clarke scoffs and picks up the box of apple juice. She tears into the plastic wrapping around the straw. “I’m not saying anything.”

“Fine. I just hope you have a good reason to.”

“I do.” Just as she reassures her, it dawns on her just why Raven is so concerned this time. She thinks she’s doing it again. Shutting down, shutting her out. Clarke reaches for Raven’s knee and squeezes it, unsure how else to comfort her. She could never really thank Raven enough for how good of a friend she is. “It’s not like that anymore. I just feel for her, I guess.”

Raven nods. “Sucks to hate yourself.”

Clarke thinks back to what Lexa had said. She had looked so scared asking Clarke about her own experimentation.

_“When did you realize?” Lexa had asked._

_“Freshman year,” Clarke had told her._

_“I was eleven.”_

Raven would understand if she knew, but that’s not Clarke’s secret to tell. There must be something that clicks into place for Raven because she just accepts it. “Well, if you like her, she’s good in my book.”

“I do like her.” Being honest with just Raven isn’t as scary as being honest with both Octavia and Raven. Together, those two can’t be trusted to take anything seriously. Separate, they’re both the most compassionate people Clarke knows. “Which sucks, by the way.”

“Yeah, I know. Probably sucks more for her, though.”

Clarke knows she’s right.

Raven shifts against the bench. “Listen, she’s probably a mess over you. Maybe you should be patient. Show her some kindness.”

Like Clarke said, Raven’s one of the most compassionate people she knows.

“You’re right. You’re a saint, Raven, you know that?”

“Ew, take it back.”

“Not a chance.”

“Hey, what are you doing for O’s birthday?”

Clarke grins mischievously and pulls out her phone. “I’m getting her the best gift of all. I’ve been texting Wells to sweeten him up before I ask him to suggest a little father-son bonding trip on a certain important Friday afternoon.”

Raven’s eyes go wide. “Dude, really?”

She smiles with her tongue poking through her teeth. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Headmaster’s holiday, that’s _genius_.”

“I thought so. What about you?”

Raven shifts against the bench. “Okay, so, a little backstory first.”

“‘Kay.”

“I know we’ve all wanted to go to Princeton since we were freshmen, but I’m pretty sure Octavia’s been looking at applying to Stanford.”

Clarke’s jaw drops. “ _Stanford_? That’s on the complete opposite side of the country.”

“I know, and I bet that’s why she hasn’t told me. But she’s got pamphlets under her bed and the University website bookmarked on her laptop. I looked it up, and they have a great soccer program. I think she’s hoping scouts come to see her in the spring.”

Oh. That makes a lot more sense. Still, they’ve all wanted Princeton since they were fourteen.

“Besides,” Raven shrugs, “I think it’s an independence thing. She doesn’t want Bellamy an hour away anymore, always looking out for her.”

“Yeah.” Clarke’s shoulders slump. She doesn’t know what she’d do with one of her best friends on the complete other side of the country. And then there’s Raven. “How are you doing with all of this?”

She’s not sure, but Clarke thinks Raven might be blushing. She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and takes a deep breath. “I... bought us matching Stanford shirts.”

Clarke feels like the rug’s been pulled out from underneath her and she’s falling fast into solitude. “You’d go with her?”

“Honestly?” Raven shrugs. “I don’t know. I just want her to know I support her, whatever she chooses.”

Clarke nods. At least they’re not both moving three time zones away. Not for sure.

“I need you to tell me if I should go with her, Clarke.” Clarke studies her, watches her take a deep breath and her bottom lip quiver before she says what Clarke has only let herself wonder about. “I think I’m-” She chokes on the words and looks down. Raven laughs to herself. “I might be in love with someone who’s supposed to be like my sister.”

Clarke puts a hand on her knee and squeezes it again. It’s all she has to give her, but she wishes she had more. She wishes she had _she loves you too_. She wishes she had _Octavia will come around._ She wishes she had _something_ because she can tell Raven’s broken up about this and has been for a while. All she does have is, “That’s okay, Raven.”

Raven has tears in her eyes but she chuckles. “You knew, didn’t you? Of course you did.” She looks up, concern written all over her expression. “You don’t think Octavia knows, do you?”

Clarke shakes her head and pulls her hand back. “No, I think you’ve got her fooled.”

“That makes one person.”

“And I don’t think I can tell you whether to stay or go.”

Raven nods. “Figured. I should tell her. If I don’t tell her and I go, I’ll always just be hoping...” She looks out over the lawn by the gazebo. “Hey, you know what’s gonna suck?”

“What?”

Raven looks back at her and wipes at her eyes. _Cut that shit out_ , Clarke can almost hear her think.

“Next time we get the girls together, Octavia wants to play Spin.”

Oh, shit. Spin’s a dangerous game to play with a girl you like.

“You’re invited, obviously,” Raven says. With a smile, she adds, “Bring Ice Queen while we’re setting ourselves up for disaster together.”

Clarke scoffs. As if Lexa would want to spend any time with her, especially time they might spend half-drunk and half-naked. “You keep calling her that. Is it a Narnia joke?” She asks before taking another sip from her juice box.

“I was going for that, yeah, but also she’s kind of a bitch.”

“She’s not.”

“Maybe.” Raven sits up. “She passed on you though, didn’t she?”

Clarke cocks a shoulder. “Hey, not yet.”

“That’s the spirit.” Raven picks up a milk carton and holds it up to toast. “Maybe we’ll get the girls after all.”

Clarke bumps her juice box against Raven’s carton. “Cheers to that.”

-

Raven taps her space shuttle pen impatiently against the desk. Sinclair’s desk. She kind of wants to rifle through his stuff because he’s pulling a huge favor asking her to be here, but he’s one of the only teachers she actually respects. She’ll let it slide.

Besides, she could use the distraction. Her phone vibrates in her jacket pocket.

 **blake smalls:** _have you seen my vibrator_  
**blake smalls:** _lmao i almost sent that text to bellamy_  
**R2-D2:** _fuck i dare you to  
_**R2-D2:** _its in the hamper i think_

When she notices how much she’s smiling at a stupid text conversation, Raven cringes. That’s just pathetic. She feels twice as uneasy now that Clarke knows how bad she’s got it. Now, when shit goes sideways, she won’t be able to pretend nothing’s wrong.

She could really use that distraction right about now.

Raven cracks open the textbook on Sinclair’s desk and flips to the page he stuck a tab to. Limiting reagent stoichiometry.

 _Please_ , she could do this in her sleep.

The office door swings open and Raven sits up.

There’s a split second where she doesn’t recognize her, but despite being out of their usual school uniform, the tense way she carries herself gives her away before her green eyes do.

“Hey. It’s Lexa, right?”

She nods. “Yes. You’re my tutor?”

She’s like, _way_ hot in person. Sure, Raven’s met her before, but not one-on-one and not in regular clothes. She’s not exactly Raven’s type, but Clarke has good taste.

“Yeah, I’m Raven.” Raven stands up from her seat and extends a hand that Lexa shakes. “Clarke’s friend. I think we’ve met, unofficially.”

“Right.”

“So you need some tutoring?” Raven sits back down and gestures for her to take a seat.

Lexa pulls up a chair to Sinclair’s desk and sets down her textbook and bag. “Yes. I’ve had a public education for the last three years. It doesn’t quite stand up to a private school’s curriculum.”

Raven nods. She toys with her pen. “Why’d you come?”

“Change of heart,” Lexa says, but the look on her face is telling.

“Not yours, I take it.”

Lexa’s smile is small and passive. “No, not mine.” She doesn’t offer any other explanation. Instead, she looks down and all of a sudden, Raven feels like an absolute dickhead for even bringing it up.

“Alright, well let’s get to work. What do you know about stoichiometry?”

Lexa cracks her textbook and pulls her seat closer to the desk. “I can balance equations.”

“Good, good. That’s basically all stoichiometry is, but on a bigger scale. There’s a couple different versions, but usually it comes down to _you have this much of x, this much of y, you want to make z, but you don’t have enough y to use up all your x so, how much z can you make?_ ”

“I’m afraid you’ve lost me.”

“Yeah, that was confusing.” She tries again, “How about this? You’re making pizza. You have enough dough for five pizzas, but you have sauce for eight pizzas. You’re only gonna make five, though, since your dough is the limiting reagent. That’s all it is. Using ratios and amounts and molar masses, you find out what you have less of and how much product you can make with it. Gucci?”

Lexa even laughs. “Sure... Gucci,” She adds, and the slang rolls off her tongue sounding unfamiliar and awkward.

“Cool. Let’s do some problems.”

They get to work and Raven’s luck is shitty as usual. Lexa is diligent as _fuck_ , asking as few questions as possible and working quietly on her own, giving Raven way too much time to think.

You’d think she’d do something smart. Read a book. Play _Trick Shot_ on her phone. _Not_ text the girl she’s trying to get over.

You’d think she’d actually act like a genius for once.

 **R2-D2:** _im with lexa rn_  
**blake smalls:** _she’s the student?_ __  
**R2-D2:** _yup_  
**blake smalls:** _ask her about clarke_  
**R2-D2:** _why?  
_**blake smalls:** _why not_

Fair enough.

“You know, it’s cool to finally meet.”

Lexa looks up from her textbook like a deer caught in the headlights.

“I feel like we know each other but I don’t think we’ve ever actually talked. Clarke’s a lame ass middleman.”

Lexa frowns. “We don’t need to talk.”

Raven bristles. _Bitch_.

She shakes her head, taking the words back. “No, I meant... I already know so much about you. Clarke tells me about you all the time.”

“Oh. Well, yeah, I’ve heard all about you too.” Clarke’s gonna kill her for this if she finds out. “Clarke pretty much never shuts up about you these days.”

“She doesn’t?” Lexa’s lips quirk up. It’s subtle, just the flicker or something young in her eyes. She likes that Clarke talks about her. She really likes it, maybe really likes _her_. But it doesn’t last. “She seems that way about everyone.”

“Not everyone. Just you. You’re different.”

Lexa doesn’t meet her eyes. “Different how?”

“You tell me.”

Lexa opens her mouth like she might say something but snaps her jaw shut immediately after. Her eyes linger on the textbook in front of her and she takes a deep breath. “We should get back to work.”

Raven fights a smile. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

-

Clarke fidgets with the watch on her wrist, twists it so she can read the face of it. Only another twenty minutes or so of class to get through. She wishes she were at least in a classroom with something to draw on. Instead, she’s hiding out in the bookstacks of the library.

Clarke skims through the titles in front of her, her fingers trailing over the spines of each book. She should have prepared a little better, but in all fairness, she’s had a lot on her mind.

She fights a smile. Frustrating as it is, it’s kind of nice to be hung up on someone again. She misses that.

“Are you in the middle of something?”

Clarke follows the sound to find Lexa standing at the end of the aisle, her hands in her pockets and her pose a complete surrender. She looks apologetic and a little nervous. More so than usual.

“History class.” Clarke hesitates and then turns to walk closer to her, keeping her voice down.  “It’s a research day, but I haven’t chosen a topic. So, I’m just kind of staring at the books ‘til class ends.” Clarke offers a small smile. Anything to put her at ease - the girl looks so tense she might snap any second.

(The bad kind of snap. The not as fun kind.)

“What topics can you choose from?”

“Anything that counts as American history.”

“Pick the revolutionary war,” Lexa says, finally easing up. She leans her shoulder against the solid side of a bookcase and meets Clarke’s eyes with less affliction than she’s gotten used to.

“Why?”

“Because you have a roommate who had three years of a public school education in Boston where they do nothing but teach the revolutionary war every year.” Lexa smiles, just barely, but there’s a playful nature there that Clarke could get used to. “I played George Washington twice in the reenactments.”

“ _Please_ tell me you have pictures.”

Her smile grows just barely. “I’m afraid not.”

Clarke wants to flirt back, wants to use the moment in the way she would if this were any other pretty girl, but the air grows heavy with the weight of their situation, and it happens fast. She exhales softly.

“So how is that going to help me if you keep avoiding me?”

Lexa looks down at her hands. Clarke’s got her pegged now and they both know it. “I’m not avoiding you,” she mumbles. “I’ve been busy.”

“Busy?” Clarke shakes her head and tries not to laugh - it’s clearly not an excuse Lexa thought through and she does feel for her, really. “You can’t even look at me.”

Lexa meets her eyes with steely determination. Her jaw locks. “You’ve been avoiding me too.”

“How have _I_ been avoiding _you_?”

“You changed your seat in class.”

Clarke balks at her. “I changed my seat because you kept treating me like I’ve got the plague.”

She has the decency to look embarrassed. Lexa’s eyes flutter shut for a few seconds and she sighs. “I didn’t come looking for you to argue. I want to apologize, Clarke.” And the way she says her name is somehow the softest thing she’s heard all day. She still hasn’t figured out how Lexa does that.

“You want to apologize?”

“Yes. I acted on my desires and didn’t take your feelings into account. I’m sorry.”

Clarke narrows her eyes. There’s a number of ways she could play this and no matter how much time she spends thinking about her, she just doesn’t know Lexa well enough to know how to act around her. Every scenario she imagines, it always comes down to one of them getting hurt. Maybe she’s just a glutton for punishment.

“ _My_ feelings? What makes you so sure that I have feelings for you?”

Anyone else might have reeled back at that. For the most part, she expected her to, but Lexa surprises her.

“You’re the one who kissed me, in case you’ve forgotten,” Lexa says with confidence, her body language alone letting Clarke know that she _hasn’t_ forgotten. Neither of them have.

“You’re the one who told me to take my clothes off for you,” she says, not missing a beat.

“And you reciprocated my advances. My point is it was mutual, Clarke. Am I wrong?”

Clarke worries her bottom lip before giving in. She shakes her head. No. She’s right.

“And I acted selfishly. I’m sorry.”

“Why?” When Clarke asks, Lexa only stares at her blankly. She shrugs, not sure why she’s asking and not sure what she’s expecting. “Why’d you do it?”

“You’re...” Lexa’s eyes linger on Clarke’s lips in a way she wishes she could ignore. “Easier to connect with than I anticipated.”

Clarke nods. She gets it. More than she can voice, so she nods. Unfortunately for the both of them, she’s way too close to feeling vulnerable right now and there’s only one solution for vulnerability.

“Well, you let me know if you ever want to _connect_ again.”

“That would be... unwise, I think.”

“Yeah. Probably.”

Something about the way Lexa looks at her makes her feel terrible for even trying. Regret is  unfamiliar territory. She thinks about Raven’s advice, about showing her the kindness that Lexa so desperately craves.

“I’m sorry, too.” That catches Lexa’s attention. She holds her gaze. “I know how hard this is for you. I want to help, but I’m not going to push you.”

Lexa shakes her head, confusion etched into her expression and the uneasy way she shifts her weight.

“Look, I’ll make you a deal. Why don’t we give us a fresh start, you and me? Maybe we could even try and be just friends, but... nothing more.”

“Just friends...” Lexa repeats like she’s weighing the words for a hidden meaning.

“Yeah. Just friends. It’s a big school, Lexa. Take it from me, you shut people out, it gets lonely fast.”

“Won’t it be difficult for you if-” Lexa clears her throat, on the verge of stumbling over her own words. She sighs shortly. “If you say our feelings are mutual...”

Clarke shrugs. “You worry about your feelings, I’ll worry about mine.”

Lexa nods, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. It’s endearing and Clarke kind of loves the fact that she’s kissed that smile - whether she never does again or not, they still attend a school full of people who might only ever look at Lexa and see a stoic, private girl and nothing else. Clarke knows better. Not only can Lexa smile, but she can make Clarke feel things she hasn’t in a long time. Clarke smiles back at her.

They break their gaze when Clarke’s phone buzzes in her coat pocket.

 **R2-D2:** _friday night spin night in our room w/ the gang. you in?_

Clarke purses her lips and looks up at Lexa. She only hesitates for a moment.

They’re _friends_ now, right?

“Are you doing anything this Friday?”

-

Things shift closer to normal again once they call for their second truce. This time, it actually sticks. Maybe because they really want it to, or maybe because Lexa is afraid of what will happen if it doesn’t last again. Whatever the reason, Clarke is glad they’re not fighting anymore and she’s glad they’re talking again. Because, _God_ , there’s just something about this girl.

They sit next to each other in Calculus again; arms touching and Clarke’s mind racing places it shouldn’t go. It’s been days since their _indiscretion_ , as Lexa would probably put it if they ever dared to talk about it again. To Clarke it feels like it’s been weeks.

The bottom line is that she’s still into her. Lexa is already attractive at a distance, but when they’re this close, everything’s a temptation that she can’t give into.

If she could just stop noticing the way Lexa looks or smells or the way her lips quirk up just slightly when she whispers a joke in her ear, maybe she’d have a real chance at this friendship thing. Not that it matters, but Lexa isn’t taking diligent notes the way she usually does, so Clarke likes her odds of the attraction being mutual.

“The girl in the front row keeps staring at you,” Lexa whispers while she scratches lazily at her notebook in pencil.

Clarke scans the front row to see the girl she had taken a seat next to the other day. Her hair is down. She looks pretty. Clarke has to give her that. When she glances back again, Clarke stares too and winks for good measure.

Lexa shifts in her seat, distancing herself.

“Maybe she likes me,” Clarke states the obvious and makes a point of meeting Lexa’s eyes. This close, she can’t hide her reaction.

Lexa’s eyes sweep over her face. She lingers on her lips and then swallows. “Maybe she does.”

“Think I should go for it?”

Lexa tenses and takes an even breath. “Don’t you think you’re a little out of her league?”

Clarke laughs under her breath. “She’s just as hot as you are.” If that’s not a lie, she’s never told one in her life. That girl has nothing on Lexa. “I’m not out of your league.”

Lexa looks down at her notebook and continues her uninspired penciling. “I’m certain that you are.”

Clarke frowns. She doesn’t know how to tell her just how wrong she is without coming on too strong or crossing a line. They’re supposed to be friends. She’s supposed to be giving her space to figure herself out, not pushing her.

“I don’t think I’m gonna go for it.”

Lexa fights back a smile and it does nothing to help keep Clarke’s feelings in check.

-

“You look tense,” Clarke says as they stop just outside Raven and Octavia’s door. “Breathe?”

Lexa lets out a slow, even breath. They stare at each other as Clarke waits for a signal of some kind from Lexa telling her that it’s okay to knock. They’re about six feet from a group of girls Lexa’s never spent any considerable amount of time with and it’s ridiculously endearing how nervous she seems to be about this.

“I’m fine. It’s just a party, Clarke.”

“Barely.” She definitely wouldn’t call it a party. If it was a party, there’s no way she would have let Lexa show up in jeans, a sweater, and a button down. Her collar folds neatly over the neckline of her sweater. It’s conservative, to put it lightly. Clarke feels underdressed in her open khaki shirt, white tank top, and jeans. At least Lexa seems comfortable.

Lexa glances at the door and Clarke takes it as her signal.

Three knocks and fifteen seconds later, the door swings open to reveal Raven in a black tank top and shorts. _That’s_ more like it.

“Hey, come in.”

“We come bearing snacks.” Clarke holds up the four bags of cookies they’d managed to wrangle from the vending machine in the teacher’s lounge.

 _That_ had been an adventure. Lexa was sure they’d get caught and expelled.

Clarke looks back and forth between Raven and Lexa as they step inside. They haven’t actually met besides the few times they came to visit Clarke in their room. “Lexa, this is Raven. Raven, Lexa.”

“Actually, we’ve met,” Lexa says. “She’s tutoring me.”

“Oh.” Nevermind, then. She looks to Lexa. “You didn’t tell me that.”

“Didn’t come up.”

Raven shuts the door behind them and joins the group of girls sitting in the center of the room. She changes the song that’s playing on her speakers. The music is just quiet enough to not get caught, a measure that takes a certain amount of precision and detention to perfect. On the bed above her, Octavia scrolls through her phone in black jeans and a dark blue tank top. Raven situates herself on the floor between Harper and Monroe where the three of them sit facing the other girls. Maya, Roma, and a girl that Clarke doesn’t recognize pass around a flask.

Clarke looks to Lexa. “Ready for a little rebellion?”

She offers Clarke half of a grin. “I’m not sure how much more rebellion I need tonight.” They stand awkwardly at the entrance of the room and Lexa steps a little closer to whisper, “I didn’t know so many people would be here.”

“Don’t worry, they’re all great.” Making a point of not getting distracted by how close she has to get to keep her voice down, Clarke whispers an introduction for Lexa. “That’s Harper and Zoe, but we just call her Monroe. They’re the girls by Raven. Those two are like a younger version of her and Octavia. Inseparable.”

Lexa nods subtly and gives Clarke a grateful smile.

“The girl talking to Octavia is Roma. I don’t know her as well as the others, but she’s always been fun. The blonde on the end is Raven’s lab partner, I think. And the other girl is Maya.” Clarke hesitates and decides to tell her. What’s the harm? “Maya and I used to date.”

Lexa draws her head back a bit like she doesn’t know what to do with that. She ends up just pursing her lips and looking at her shoes.

Clarke’s eyes follow Octavia as she stands up and pockets her phone.

“Everyone’s here, right? Can we get to it?” She sits in the empty space between the two groups of girls and points to the space across from her just big enough for Clarke and Lexa. “Well don’t just stand there, sit down you weirdos.”

They take their spots and sit cross-legged next to each other to finish the circle of girls. Raven pulls a bottle out from under the bed and unscrews the cap to pass it around as Octavia passes around purple solo cups.  When the bottle reaches them, Lexa seems nervous as she fills her cup until Clarke nods and gives her an encouraging stroke of her knee with the back of her hand; just a nudge to ground her. Clarke really wants her to have fun tonight. When the bottle reaches Raven again, she finishes it off and slides it to the center of the floor.

“Alright, does everyone know our initiates? Lexa and Niylah?”

“Lexa’s only here to watch, actually,” Clarke says before Raven gets any bright ideas. She wants Lexa to meet her friends, not run screaming from their room.

“That’s cool. Niylah, you in?”

The girl Clarke had guessed was Raven’s lab partner nods. “Yeah, I’m game.”

“Sweet. So, the rules are pretty easy. It’s Spin, Strip, Truth or Dare. One person spins the bottle, the person it lands on has to pick truth or dare, and the person who did the spinning gives them a truth or a dare. Totally fair. No favoritism, no targeting, but other than that, nothing’s off limits. And if you don’t want to do the truth or dare, you take off an item of clothing. Rinse and repeat ad nauseam or ‘til Octavia and I kick you guys out.”

The girls laugh but Clarke finds herself glancing at Lexa to gauge her reactions. She really wants her to like them.

“I’ll start.”

Raven spins, the bottle landing on Zoe. Clarke doesn’t know her as well as she knows Harper, but she does know that she’s as clever as she is ballsy.

“Truth or dare, Monroe?”

“Truth.”

“Have you watched porn today?”

“Nope.”

A couple of the girls boo her for not starting the game off with a bang, but Octavia raises her plastic cup in a mock toast to Monroe.

“Amen, sister, the porn industry’s fucked anyway.”

The girls laugh and again, Clarke only looks to Lexa. She looks stunned, but there’s a quirk to the corner of her lip. She’s not freaked. She even looks a little amazed.

Monroe spins the bottle and it points to Octavia. She doesn’t hesitate.

“Dare.”

“Do push-ups until your next turn.” Monroe fires back with a wicked smile on her face.

“You _bitch_ , it’s not even soccer season, I’m all out of shape.” Octavia shakes her head, spins the bottle and gets to work on her push-ups. The bottle lands on Raven’s lab partner, the blonde named Niylah.

“Truth.”

Octavia locks her arms mid-push up to think. “If you had to have a threesome with me and one other person in this room, who would you pick?”

Niylah looks down at the cup in her hands and laughs uncomfortably. With a cringe, she locks eyes with Clarke. “What’s your name?”

“Clarke.”

“I’d pick Clarke,” Niylah says quietly and hides her face behind a sip from her drink.

That’s flattering enough to make Clarke go a little red. She hadn’t really noticed Niylah until now, but she’s certainly gotten her attention. It takes everything in her not to look at Lexa and hope for a reaction. That doesn’t mean she won’t try and pull one from her anyway.

“It’s nice to meet you, Niylah,” she says with a wink. “You know you just put a target on our backs, right?”

Raven lets out a laugh. “Yeah, I wouldn’t pick dare, either of you. Or do. I could use some entertainment tonight.”

Octavia scowls from where she’s still doing push-ups. “Jesus, somebody spin already.”

When Niylah spins, it lands on Raven.

“Truth.”

Niylah goes easy on her. So easy that Clarke wonders if she’s not the only one who knows about Raven’s feelings for Octavia. She goes _suspiciously_ easy on her.

“Drunkest you’ve ever been?”

“Uh,” Raven laughs and her eyes flit to Octavia. “We got blackout drunk this summer at the lakehouse.” She leans forward to spin the bottle with a half-hearted swipe at the neck of it. It lands on Clarke.

She might as well get it over with. “Dare.”

Smirking at her, Raven shrugs. It’s not hard to guess what she’ll make her do, but at least she knows Raven won’t target anyone. That’s not how they play this game.

“Kiss the first volunteer.”

Before she can even glance at Niylah to see if she’ll volunteer, Octavia stops her push-ups and sits up.

“Dibs,.” she says.

Clarke swallows and glances at Raven who looks just as nervous as Clarke feels all of a sudden. _This_ definitely can’t happen. Clarke recovers in no time. “Nuh uh, you just want to stop doing your push-ups. Pass.”

“You can’t _pass_ ,” Octavia grumbles, but she gets back into push-up position with a scowl on her face.

“I can totally pass. _Consent_ , bitch. And also I want to see you struggle a little more.”

Raven pushes herself up on her knees and crosses the floor. “Alright, I’ll volunteer. Pucker up, Griff.”

This time she can’t resist. She looks at Lexa just in time to catch her staring. She immediately looks down at her shoes and ducks her head as if she hadn’t been paying attention in the first place. Clarke wishes there was a way she could reassure her that, kiss or no kiss, there was nothing between her and Raven. But anything short of “no homo” would just fall flat and embarrass the both of them. She just shouldn’t bring it up.

(Besides, Raven’s hot. There’s always a little bit of homo between them.)

Clarke shrugs. She crawls across the floor to meet her halfway and kisses Raven. It’s nice. Not particularly exciting, but she’s certainly had worse. Raven’s got nice lips.

“Not bad, blondie,” Raven says when she backs herself up against the bed again.

“Not so bad yourself.”

When Clarke spins again, the bottle lands on Octavia and she finally stops her push-ups.

“Thank fuck. _Truth_.”

Clarke likes to think she’s a good friend, so she angles for something she can maybe work with. She’d like to be able to tell Raven that what she’s feeling for Octavia is mutual, but honestly? She can’t figure it out for herself, either.

“Who do you think is the best kisser here?”

Octavia sits up and claps dirt or dust from her hands. She looks around. “New girl,” she says, gesturing towards Lexa.

 _That_ throws Clarke for a loop. It’s not what she was hoping for, but at least it doesn’t completely backfire. Half of her wants to agree with her and half of her gets irrationally frustrated that anyone else might look at Lexa the same way that she does. She doesn’t like the idea of Lexa thinking of Octavia in the way Clarke thought of Niylah when she picked her for their hypothetical threesome. She really doesn’t want to share her. Clarke has to force herself to remember that Lexa isn’t even hers to have at all.

Octavia picks up her drink. “It’s always the quiet ones.”

Lexa’s eyes lock with Clarke’s. They have a silent exchange, just a quirk of Lexa’s lips and a raise of Clarke’s eyebrow.

“I guess you’ll never know,” Lexa says to Octavia, but she doesn’t look away from Clarke.

The girls let out a collective _oooh_ and Clarke feels a surge of pride at the fact that they clearly like her. This girl who’s an absolute mystery to her is just as intriguing to them as she is to Clarke. Even more importantly, Lexa’s comfortable enough to join in on the banter. And when Octavia spins the bottle and it lands dead center on Lexa, she puts her drink down, pushes up her sleeves, and says, “Truth,” before Clarke can suggest that they just spin again.

“You don’t have to play,” Clarke whispers just loud enough for Lexa to hear.

She shakes her head. “I want to.”

Clarke thinks she might be more nervous than Lexa in this moment, especially when Octavia gets a playful glint in her eye and smiles. Uh oh.

“Where’s the weirdest place you’ve had sex?”

For a moment, she hesitates. Lexa rests her fingers on the rim of her cup and taps it slowly as she considers it. Something clicks for her, because she picks it up, takes a quick drink, and swallows. “Boarding school.”

Clarke can’t tear her eyes from Lexa, but she hears someone whistle softly and she knows without looking that Octavia and Raven are probably staring at each other like they’ve just won the lottery. A couple of the girls laugh, the others nod approvingly, and Clarke just keeps watching Lexa. Watching her admit it shoots a thrill through Clarke. Lexa goes bright red almost immediately and doesn’t make any direct eye contact, but she’s not upset and she’s not running. She looks as if she’s just tested the waters and they’re nowhere near as shark-infested as she expected them to be.

“Damn,” Harper says. “Me too, though.” Monroe smacks her leg like she’s said something absurd, but Harper just shrugs. “What? We’re all friends here.”

Later, Clarke will be able to look back on every single thing that happens between her and Lexa and she’ll know.

She’ll know that it’s the way Lexa relaxes when she hears _we’re all friends here_ that spoils the end of this story for her. They’ve barely begun it, but she just knows. Clarke’s going to fall for her - really, truly fall for her, whether she wants to or not. It’s written in the way the tension fades from Lexa’s shoulders. She had been bracing herself for rejection all night. She meets Clarke’s eyes and her grateful look is enough to make Clarke’s heart ache.

She only knows she’s reached a turning point once she’s too far gone to regret it. This girl is going to unravel her and Clarke is going to let her.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the lack of sin, rest assured i will definitely be making up for it in the next chapter. see ya in a day or two!


	3. help me run away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> lexa has way too many thoughts and all of them are gay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ya girl's updatin' her fic within 48 hours of the last chapter...... someone high five me.
> 
> and LISTEN. i genuinely believed most of this chapter was gonna be plot, and then it completely got out of hand. this is... So Sinful. i apologize. hopefully it's not too much.
> 
> as usual thanks to my betas, y'all made this chapter 800x better than it was 24 hours ago and i would die for all of you <3

The game goes on for a while, and it’s by far the most intriguing game Lexa’s ever played. After a few turns and the realization that everyone is going relatively easy on her, she loosens up and stops dreading the moment when the bottle lands on her. Most of that is thanks to Clarke, who fixes anyone who gives her a truth or a dare a look that Lexa hopes she’ll never be on the receiving end of.

Clarke’s protective presence is comforting. It’s either the alcohol or the wishful thinking, but Lexa thinks this group of girls might be the exact opposite of how her mother sees people ‘ _of the wrong persuasion_.’ They’re kind, incredibly funny, and thoughtful. No one tries to pressure her into anything. No one tells her how to act or feel. That’s more than she can say about her own family.

But that’s different, of course.

She feels like Clarke’s friends are the kind of people who would accept any part of herself that she offered them. That idea of unconditional approval is messing with her mind, but she hopes the feeling never leaves.

As the game continues, she learns more about each of Clarke’s friends. Raven admits to having fantasized about being handcuffed. Harper and Monroe admit to having had a crush on Clarke at one point or another. Maya lets Clarke draw something in sharpie on her face and Clarke gets quite creative. The ease with which the two girls interact leaves Lexa feeling restless and irritated.

The girl named Roma has a tattoo on her stomach which she reveals when she takes off her shirt after refusing to answer a question. When Octavia picks dare again, she has to surrender her phone to Raven, who gets to send one embarrassing text to whomever she texted last.

Lexa doesn’t pay attention long enough to figure out who she texts or what she says because just as Raven takes her phone, Clarke leans close and whispers something in her ear. “I’m glad that’s not my dare,” she says, and Lexa can smell both the alcohol on her breath and the perfume on her neck. “I think I’d rather take my shirt off than let Raven text something humiliating to the Headmaster’s son.”

That visual alone has Lexa reaching for her cup to have something to do besides think about how clearly she remembers what a shirtless Clarke looks like.

When Octavia dares Clarke to kiss her _not-so-secret admirer_ for fifteen seconds, there’s a split second where Lexa thinks that she means _her_. It isn’t her, of course. It’s Raven’s friend, Niylah, and that’s a relief.

At first.

She grits her teeth when Clarke crawls across the floor to kiss her, only a few feet away from where Lexa sits with her legs crossed and her heart stuck in her throat.

It’s not particularly gratifying to watch Clarke kiss someone else. Niylah is pretty. She likes Clarke quite a bit (if the way she kisses her back enthusiastically is any indication), and she has no inhibitions about kissing another girl in front of her friend’s friends. To Lexa’s credit, she’s more captivated than she is jealous. It’s interesting to watch how Clarke looks and moves when she kisses someone. Not interesting enough to mitigate her distaste for watching Clarke work her tongue into another girl’s mouth, but interesting nonetheless.

The kiss lasts more than fifteen seconds, and Lexa stares into the bottom of her empty, purple cup instead of wondering if Clarke looked as satisfied when it had been Lexa she was kissing like that.

That moment being the notable exception, Lexa actually has _fun_. Six or seven spins later, Lexa realizes she’s the only person here who hasn’t kissed someone tonight. It should probably scare her that she doesn’t know if that’s relieving or disappointing.

Raven crushes her plastic cup and tosses it into a trash can behind Octavia as the bottle spins again and lands on Clarke.

“Truth.”

It’s Lexa’s turn to pick something for Clarke to answer. She leans back with her ankles crossed and her arms hugging her knees as she thinks.

“How many people have you slept with this year?”

Clarke’s expression softens. It’s a personal question and they both know it. If the other girls weren’t half-drunk, they’d probably notice too. “One.”

Lexa blinks a few times. “Oh.”

The room goes silent as they look at each other. Or maybe the rest of the world just fades into its own unimportance. Regardless, for a moment it’s only them. Clarke, letting out an even breath as she studies her, and Lexa, frozen, feeling like she’s not enough. It’s irrational. Clarke’s sex life is her own choice. If she hasn’t had sex this year, it’s no one’s fault - certainly not Lexa’s. But the truth is, Clarke deserves more than one night with someone as complicated as Lexa.

She’s hardly paying attention when Clarke finally pulls herself from Lexa’s gaze and spins the bottle. Lexa tears her eyes away from Clarke and focuses on the words she’s saying.

“Dare,” Raven says when the bottle comes to a stop.

“I dare you,” Clarke starts and then hesitates. She drums her fingers on her cup for a moment and then smiles when an idea comes to mind. “I dare you to play _Gay Chicken_ with the first person to volunteer.”

There’s a chorus of _oohs_ and _aahs_ from the girls, with the exception of Raven, who suddenly looks more nervous than Lexa’s ever seen her. It doesn’t suit her, not the way her usual confidence does. Lexa wracks her mind for an explanation, but she comes up empty.

She turns her head towards Clarke. “What is that?”

Raven answers for her with a sigh. “It’s when two people kiss until one person chickens out and backs off. Which is really a game for _straight guys_ ,” she says with a pointed look at Clarke. “Most of us here like girls anyway.”

Lexa appreciates the inclusion of ‘most of us’. Despite the fact that she confessed to having sex at an all-girls boarding school less than an hour ago - something she still feels uneasy about - she appreciates Raven’s ambiguity.

“Well, shit,” Octavia says. She leans forward on her knees and crawls close enough to Raven to kiss her. “I’ll never back down from a competition. Bring it, Reyes.”

The way Raven looks up at her borders on awe. She blinks a few times, swallows, and then nods. “Yeah. Okay.”

Octavia leans back to sit on her heels so that they’re at eye level, and Raven takes a deep breath.

Despite the overabundance of kissing that this game has seen in the last hour, this is the most tense anyone’s been thus far. Lexa glances at Clarke to see if she feels it too, but Clarke just watches the two of them, entirely enraptured.

“Try and keep up,” Octavia says. She sinks forward against Raven and kisses her. No build-up or nervous half-kisses like Lexa had been expecting from a challenge like this. Octavia’s clearly in this game to win, while Raven looks like she’s just trying to survive it.

Octavia holds Raven’s face in her hands as Raven bravely slides her hands up Octavia’s sides. Lexa doesn’t figure out that she’s rooting for Raven until she slides her hands under Octavia’s shirt and starts to tickle her sides.

“Bitch,” Octavia says into a kiss that’s slowly falling apart as she swats at Raven’s hands and tries not to laugh against her mouth. Once she gets the upper hand, she pushes Raven back against the side of the bed and pins her wrists against the mattress and they tilt their heads to deepen the kiss.

Raven hums softly against Octavia’s lips, and suddenly Lexa feels like she’s invading their privacy by watching. That’s the excuse she clings as she watches Clarke instead of them.

Clarke’s eyes flit to her, back to Octavia and Raven, and then back to Lexa when she notices that she’s been staring. With so much nervous energy in the room, Lexa feels her chest tighten and her palms start to sweat.

Clarke Griffin gives her butterflies, simple as that.

Finally, the moment is broken when Raven backs out of the kiss.

“Alright, alright, alright, I give.” She pushes at Octavia’s shoulders but she doesn’t go far when they part. “You win.”

“Hell yeah, I do.” Her tone isn’t as cocky as it usually is. Lexa can’t blame her - nobody survives a kiss that heated without being affected in some way. Octavia plants a kiss on Raven’s cheek and slides back to her spot on the floor. “You’re a good kisser, though.”

Lexa thinks that if this is what a platonic relationship looks like, it’s going to be hard to have one with Clarke.

“Yeah.” Raven’s still catching her breath when she says, “You too. I guess it’s a Blake thing.”

“Oh, fuck _off_. Did you really have to bring my brother into this?”

“What can I say? I’m a sore loser.”

“Bitch.”

Raven spins the bottle and it lands on Lexa.

She’s either feeling stupid or brave when she says, “Dare.”

 _Stupid it is_ , she thinks when Raven rubs her hands together.

“Okay. I’ve got something, but it’s a little messy,” Raven says. Lexa tries to swallow her nerves as best she can. “So, somebody volunteers. They close their eyes so they can’t anticipate anything and then it’s up to you. Don’t say which one you’re gonna do, just do it - you either slap them across the face, or you kiss them.”

Lexa opens her mouth to protest but shuts it almost immediately. She doesn’t have to do it. That’s the whole point of this game, isn’t it? Nobody has to do anything they’re uncomfortable with. She could opt to strip. Take her sweater off. It’s starting to get hot in here, anyway. She moves her hand to grab at the neckline of her sweater but freezes mid-motion when Clarke speaks.

“I’ll volunteer.”

It’s actually embarrassing how quickly Lexa pulls her hand back. Clarke’s in this now - she can’t back down.

(She doesn’t want to back down.)

“Okay,” Lexa says with a nod. “Close your eyes.” She licks her lips and wills her heart to stop racing. She can feel her own heartbeat in her ears and most of her face. Her upper body is starting to heat up. Embarrassment, anticipation, anxiety. It’s all there, and it’s scaring the fuck out of her. She feels each pair of eyes on them as she swallows her nerves.

Clarke turns her body towards Lexa and lets her eyes flutter closed. When Lexa shifts to face her, Clarke braces for a slap. She squeezes her eyes shut tight and holds her lips in a thin line. Anticipation is written in every tense line on her face.

It’s harder to resist than Lexa thought it would be. So she doesn’t.

The tension melts from Clarke’s face the moment Lexa brushes her lips against hers. The subtle gasp that the kiss elicits from Clarke opens her mouth just enough for Lexa to readjust and kiss her better, more fully. The way Clarke should be kissed - with purpose and affection. It isn’t rushed, or sloppy, or anything like the other kisses Lexa has watched people exchange tonight.

When she remembers their audience and pulls away, Clarke frowns at her.

“You didn’t have to kiss me,” Clarke whispers.

“Would you have preferred that I slapped you?”

Clarke shakes her head no, a small smile tugging at her lips.

Something changes after that dare, and the atmosphere of the room shifts. It’s calmer, especially when Harper, Monroe, Maya, Niylah, and Roma opt to return to their own rooms for the night. But not before Niylah hugs Clarke goodbye, which bothers Lexa.

It shouldn’t, but it just _does_. And she knows why.

But when it’s just the four of them - Octavia, Raven, Clarke, and herself - she relaxes. For a moment there, everything was getting to be too much, but this she can handle. Raven and Clarke are kind. They include her in conversations, and Clarke explains all their inside jokes that Lexa isn’t privy to.

Lexa spins the bottle and it lands on Raven. She picks truth.

“What was your first impression of me?”

“‘Uhh, how come Clarke gets the hot roommate and I get this old thing?’” Raven gestures to Octavia, who throws a pillow at her. There’s a scuffle between the two that ends with Raven resting the pillow in her lap and Octavia resting her head against the pillow to lay down.

“You’re such a bitch,” Octavia says with a soft punch to Raven’s shoulder, but she grins up at her anyway. Raven tickles her side again and Octavia folds in on herself while she pushes at Raven’s hands, but she doesn’t sit up when Raven finally stops.

Raven juts her head towards the bottle out of her reach. “Spin for me.”

The bottle lands on nothing, but it’s closest to Clarke.

“Truth,” she says. Lexa sees that they’ve all grown tired of dares by now.

“Favorite game?” Raven asks and then elaborates. “Not like _football,_ but also not just sex.”

“Hmm,” Clarke finishes off the last of what’s in her cup and then tosses it into the trash can. “Okay, I actually only played this once, but... _Too Hot_.”

Lexa frowns. “What’s _Too Hot_?”

Before she can get an answer, there’s a knock at the door. Raven and Octavia sit up and Clarke locks eyes with Lexa.

“Go, go. go.” Raven ushers them up from the floor and starts cleaning up the empty cups. She kicks the bottle under the closest bed, turns off the barely audible music that’s still playing, and pushes Lexa and Clarke towards the closet. “Get in.”

Maybe it’s the alcohol, but Lexa just feels like laughing. This has got to be the universe playing some kind of sick joke on her. She _would_ get physically thrown back into the closet after a night like this.

It’s a tight fit, but the door just makes it shut. Lexa hears a click, some muffled conversation, and then one of the girls opens the door to greet whoever’s been knocking.

In the dark, she feels Clarke tap her hand. “Are you having a good time?” she whispers.

Lexa laughs softly, trying to keep quiet. “We’re in the closet.”

Clarke bursts into giggles that she muffles in her shirt sleeve. Before Lexa’s eyes can even adjust to the darkness, she knows that Clarke’s smile is the prettiest thing she can’t see.

-

They don’t spend a long time in their hideout. Raven and Octavia manage to convince whoever was monitoring the halls that no suspicious behavior was taking place. They wait to make sure that they won’t be caught on the way out, and then Clarke and Lexa leave in favor of returning to their own room. When they’re alone again in the hallways, Lexa breathes a sigh of relief that the almost overwhelming night of socializing is over.

Clarke keeps her voice down and walks close to Lexa to talk. “Sorry things got kind of gay.”

Lexa just nods. She can’t tell if she means it as an ‘apology accepted’ or simply as a recognition that Clarke has said something. “It’s alright.” She realizes she’s been holding her breath, so she exhales. When she speaks again, her voice is softer than it needs to be. “I’m probably gay.”

With her hands in her pockets and her heart on her sleeve, Clarke asks the question Lexa expects. “That’s not what you told me a few weeks ago. What happened to it being wrong?”

At a loss for words, she shrugs. _It still is_ , she wants to say, but Lexa can’t be sure if she even believes that anymore. Not really. It’s _not_ wrong, per se. Not in the way that violence or rudeness is. But still, it’s something to be kept behind closed doors. Out of sight, so it can’t hurt you. She’s only ever been hurt by it.

With the exception of Clarke.

“Explain it to me.”

Clarke looks at her. “Explain what?”

“Explain how it’s so easy for you. How do you make sense of it?”

She blows out a puff of air that sounds like something between a laugh and a scoff. “It’s _not_ easy.”

It’s a disappointing answer, but Lexa nods. Of course, she can’t assume that Clarke has it easy just because Lexa believes that she has it worse than her.

But Clarke’s not done talking.

“At first.” Clarke stops walking and faces Lexa. “When I came out, it was scary. And honestly?” She laughs in defeat and shrugs a shoulder. “I didn’t do it right. There were people who rejected me for it. That sucked for a long time. I was scared I was going to have to go through that for the rest of my life: constantly coming out, constantly losing people, and constantly having to choose between closing the door on something that matters to me or closing the door on some _one_ that matters to me.”

Lexa feels her chest grow heavy and her eyes prick with tears. She’s well-accustomed to that fear; she wears it like a second skin.

“And then one day I woke up. I just...” Clarke gestures blindly, as if trying to make sense of herself. “I couldn’t tell you what happened or what triggered it. I just woke up. And it hit me that I deserve better. I deserve better than to spend time with people who would reject me for something as harmless as who I kiss. And Lexa? You deserve better, too.”

Lexa closes her mouth that had begun to hang open at some point. She blinks back tears before they can fall. Clarke’s left her speechless. It’s hard to think like this, half-drunk and scared out of her mind into this girl. This girl who sees the world so _clearly_.

But Lexa has her own take on the world as it is, and only one of them can be right. Still, just the idea that reality can be something different, something in between - it’s enough to give her hope.

With nothing to say, Lexa only nods in gratitude and they start walking again. They drift through the halls in silence, side by side, and Lexa can’t help but think about how easy it was to fall for this girl and how hard it’s going to be to stop.

When they reach their door, Clarke reaches out and tugs on the hem of Lexa’s sweater. It’s a soft, comforting gesture, capturing her attention and keeping the atmosphere light.

“It’ll happen for you too,” Clarke says. Instead of reaching for their key, she lets out a controlled breath and steps closer. There’s no intention in her proximity, just kindness. “But for now, you’re not there. I get that. So I won’t push you, I swear. Everything’s off limits, I’ll respect that.”

“Off limits...” Lexa tests the words. “What is?”

“Us. The kissing, and um-” Clarke swallows and Lexa watches the way her throat moves. Her neck is beautiful. Tempting. “Other stuff. We can just say we won’t let it happen anymore, if that’s what you want. It was just a stupid game, anyway.”

She does want that. It was a stupid game. She does wish that all of this constant tension between them could just evaporate as quickly as it had come. It would make things so much simpler if she wasn’t always waiting for the moment where they finally break and give in.

But there’s a flaw to this plan of Clarke’s. Now that she can’t have her, Lexa wants her more than ever. She’s wanted her for weeks, but now, she’s not Lexa’s to have.

Lexa licks her lips. “When do we start?” She’s stalling.

“Whenever you want.”

That’s the window of opportunity she needed.

Lexa leans in and kisses Clarke before she can think too much about what she’s doing. Clarke doesn’t miss a beat. She kisses back and her hands pull at Lexa’s sides, holding her closer as Lexa backs her into their door. In the back of her mind, Lexa registers the fact that they’re still outside, doing this in a hallway that anyone could walk through. The rest of her mind doesn’t care. She just wants more of this, just wants to focus on the way Clarke’s tongue moves against hers and how that just might be her favorite thing about romance as she knows it: moments like this when something as simple as a kiss can make her dizzy, and selfish, and as foolish as she can get.

They part to breathe, ragged and hot. Clarke’s eyes stay trained on Lexa’s mouth. There isn’t more than an inch or two between their lips and Lexa doesn’t step back, leaving Clarke still pinned between her and the door. Clarke’s hands linger on her sides, sliding up and down slowly over the fabric of her clothes like she’s memorizing the feel of her. Lexa weaves her hand through Clarke’s hair, studies her face, and tries not to kiss her again. She wonders if it’s just too much to ask for a little self-control.

 _Yes_ , her body tells her when their mouths drift closer until their lips nearly touch. Lexa squeezes her eyes shut, ignores what she wants, and pulls back.

She can resist Clarke Griffin. She should. Not even because of what she believes; she’s too confused to believe in any one thing tonight, anyway. No, she should resist because she has nothing to offer her. All they have is this inescapable attraction to each other. Take that away and what’s left? Complication. Anxiety. One day, heartbreak. Clarke’s right, she deserves better than people who keep her from being who she is.

But, God, there’s something about her. Something intimate. Something familiar. Something she can’t turn down. Lexa leans forward again, lips crashing and chests pressing until their bodies are flush against each other and Clarke opens her mouth for a greedy kiss that Lexa’s happy to give her. Clarke kisses and holds her like she’s mapping the way that they fit against each other. Her hands explore Lexa’s sides, her back, her shoulders, while her tongue swipes across her bottom lip-

With twice the effort now, Lexa pulls back again, and it’s Clarke that keeps them from falling back into each other again.

“Please say something.”

Something. She’s right, this isn’t fair to Clarke. “What time is it?”

Clarke furrows her eyebrows while her breathing slows. “What?” After a beat, “Um.” She looks down at her watch. “11:04. Why?”

Lexa’s hands slide down to Clarke’s shoulders and then, after a moment, she runs the palm of her hands down her arms. “Let’s start at midnight.”

“Start what?”

“Start over. Everything off limits, like you said.”

“Midnight.”

“Midnight,” Lexa repeats.

“We have an hour.”

Lexa can’t help but smile. “That we do.”

Clarke seems to get it. She grins and turns around to fumble with the door, finding her key and stumbling into their room with Lexa following shortly behind her. She shuts the door and flicks the lights on, and for a moment all they do is stare at each other.

Clarke draws her bottom lip between her teeth and looks at Lexa with dark eyes as they gravitate towards each other, taking slow steps until they’re in each other’s space. Lexa lunges forward to kiss her again.

They might as well make good use of their time.

They kick their shoes off clumsily and Lexa peels off her sweater, which Clarke takes as an invitation to unbutton the top three buttons of Lexa’s shirt.

Lexa tugs on Clarke’s open shirt. “Can I?”

“Yeah.”

She pushes the khaki shirt off her shoulders to leave Clarke in a white tank top that does wonders for the way her breasts look. Lexa can see the outline of her bra; it’s lilac lace and perfect on her. She kisses her again just because she can.

Clarke slides her hands over Lexa’s forearms and guides her towards her bed as they kiss. When Lexa’s knees hit the edge, she lays back and settles against the pillows as Clarke straddles her leg, sweeping her hair over one shoulder and leaning down to kiss her again. Lexa’s hands come up to hold Clarke’s sides, and she kisses her back until she forgets how to breathe.

Just like it did the last time they were in this position, Lexa’s mind races despite Clarke’s diligent efforts to derail any capability of coherent thought.

Clarke wants her again. She could have any girl she wanted: Niylah, Raven, the girl in their math class who had watched Clarke from afar and been so much prettier than Lexa. She’d kissed half of her friends on a number of dares tonight, but instead of sneaking away with any of them, she’d come back to their room with Lexa. She’d kissed _her_. She wants _her,_ and it’s more than a one-time thing now. It’s surreal to be chosen in that way by someone in a position like Clarke. She’s not in the closet. She’s never been afraid to come on to girls. She’s choosing Lexa.

And Lexa is a complicated mess, but Clarke still wants her.

It’s that train of thought and the way that Clarke really knows how to use her tongue that leaves Lexa feeling a lot like how Raven had looked when she was kissing Octavia. Here Clarke is, kissing her for the fun of it while Lexa is just trying to keep her head above water and not let herself drown. She wants to be just as good at this as Clarke is. She can be. It’s just hard to focus, but she can do it. She can make her enjoy this just as much as she is.

“That game you mentioned,” Lexa says between heavy breaths when she pulls away from a kiss. “Is it a sex thing?”

 _Sex thing?_ There are about a thousand other ways she could have phrased that to make herself sound less like a fourteen year old boy.

“Um.” Clarke draws her eyebrows together, getting her bearings. “ _Too Hot_? Not really.”

Shit. Now she’s just embarrassing herself. “Sorry. Nevermind.”

Clarke smiles and kisses her cheek. “Are you trying to make this better for me?”

Lexa flushes bright red. “I just thought-”

“Because it’s already going pretty good in my book.” Clarke reaches for her hand and laces their fingers together. She presses a hot, wet kiss to her neck.

“Yeah?”

“Mm-hmm,” Clarke hums against her throat. She moves back up to kiss her again, playfully biting Lexa’s bottom lip and then running her tongue over it. Lexa adds that to the list of things Clarke does that make her mind melt.

Clarke shifts back and settles her weight against Lexa. “ _Too Hot_ is a kissing game. You kiss each other as much as you want, but you can’t touch. The first person who gives in and touches, loses the game.”

As a competitive person, Lexa frowns at the idea. “That sounds like a game you can only win by losing.”

“Pretty much.” Clarke’s tongue pokes out between her teeth when she smiles. “Makes for great foreplay, though.”

 _Foreplay_. Lexa’s stomach flips at the implication. They’re taking everything so much slower this time. Desperation and haste have been replaced with talking, hand holding, and deep kisses. Neither of them have actually mentioned whether or not they’ll have sex again, but now that Clarke’s implied it, Lexa wants it.

“Are you...” She pushes hair from Clarke’s face with her free hand and tucks the strand behind her ear. “How much did you drink?”

“Not much. Only refilled my cup once. You?”

“Less than that.”

Clarke presses a lazy kiss to her jaw. “I’m not drunk.” And another to side of her neck. “You can do anything you want to me.”

 _Wow_. Alright.

Lexa clears her throat. “Let’s play your game.”

“Okay.” She pulls her hand from Lexa’s, but instead of settling her hands on the bed, she does the opposite. For a moment, she just touches Lexa. She slides her hand under Lexa’s shirt, across her stomach, and lights a fire under every inch of skin she touches. Her other hand moves to cup the back of Lexa’s neck and then slides lower to lay her palm flat against Lexa’s collar bone beneath the open collar of her shirt. “Okay,” she repeats. “No hands in three...” Lexa takes the same opportunity that Clarke is stealing. She grips at her waist and drags her hands up Clarke’s sides. “Two...” She runs her hands through blonde hair while she can. “One.”

They both pull their hands away and Clarke descends on her lips.

Almost immediately, Lexa wants to work her fingers into Clarke’s hair. Her hands come up to do just that but stop short, just inches from her head. They hover there until she forces them back down. Clarke, on the other hand, has her weight balanced against her forearms, keeping her hands still and preoccupied. That’s cheating, Lexa thinks. Clarke has an advantage while she’s on top and in control.

Lexa lifts her head to push Clarke away with just her lips, which is easier said than done. “Is it just our hands we can’t use?”

“Yeah, just our hands.” Clarke chases her lips again and shifts against her, the only sign that she’s struggling just as much.

Lexa collects fistfuls of bedsheets in her hands at her sides, and grounds herself. Maybe she doesn’t have much control, but there are ways she can _take_ control. She hitches her leg up and hooks it around Clarke.

They both groan into their kiss when the new angle presses Clarke’s thigh against Lexa’s center and Lexa’s leg lines up against Clarke. The sudden closeness takes Lexa by surprise until her heart is racing and her breathing loses its rhythm.

Clarke pulls herself out of their kiss and Lexa is glad that she looks just as affected as she feels. Clarke licks her lips. Lexa blinks up at her in shock. Their breaths are both starting to come out ragged in anticipation.

Without warning, Clarke experimentally rocks forward against her. She doesn’t touch her, doesn’t say a word, and leaves their eyes locked on each other as she does it again, this time with purpose. The combination of Clarke holding her gaze with a devilish smirk on her lips while she grinds against Lexa’s leg and pushes her own thigh against Lexa does more for her arousal than just about anything she’s ever been able to do to herself.

When Clarke starts up a slow, agonizing rhythm, Lexa’s breathing is as erratic as her heartbeat and Clarke’s own breaths are coming in short gasps.

Lexa hitches her leg up higher for more contact and Clarke rolls her hips with a low moan from the back of her throat. “Does that feel good to you?”

If Lexa had it in her to roll her eyes right now, she would. Clarke _knows_ how good she’s making her feel.

“Does it?” she asks again, rocking against her a little faster now.

“ _Yes_ ,” Lexa chokes out.

Clarke’s cocky demeanor loses its edge when she grinds against her again and her eyes flutter closed from the pleasure. Serves her right for being so pleased with herself, and for having Lexa so close to finishing already. If she goes any faster or any harder, Lexa thinks she might lose it. Even so, she can’t help but buck her hips against Clarke’s legs and chase the orgasm she’s already so close to reaching.

“Have you thought about this?”

_Yes._

“Have you thought about what you want to do to me?” Clarke’s voice is _dangerously_ seductive. “I have.”

Those two words alone already have her mind racing. Lexa wonders what the context was, what she thought about, what she wanted them to do to each other, whether or not Clarke touched herself to the thought of it-

When Clarke kisses her neck and starts to whimper against her throat, Lexa tries to take matters into her own hands.

She grips Clarke’s hips tight and uses the leverage to spread her legs wider and cling tighter to her as she tries to match Clarke’s-

“Ah ah ah,” Clarke’s voice is low and husky and all kinds of sexy in her ear. “No touching,” she reminds her.

Lexa squeezes her eyes shut as a wave of humiliation washes over her. That was just pathetic how quickly she lost control and gave in.

“I forgot,” she mumbles.

Clarke pulls her head back and kisses her, all the while not stopping her movements. “Someone’s eager,” she says into Lexa’s mouth.

Her pride is hurt. She can admit that, but only if she can get Clarke to admit that she’s just as eager. Without any warning, she rolls Clarke over by the shoulders and takes the upper hand as she straddles Clarke in the same position she was in just seconds ago.

Clarke laughs in surprise but goes with it. Now that the game is lost, Lexa touches her however she wants to. She reaches down to hitch Clarke’s leg up her waist to get the same angle they had before, but just holds it like that. She doesn’t move. She doesn’t urge Clarke to take control. She just holds them that way as the anticipation builds.

If she doesn’t black out from sheer arousal before she pulls this off, she can get Clarke wishing that she hadn’t said that.

Clarke just stares up at her, probably trying to figure out exactly what game she’s playing. Glassy blue eyes meet green and Clarke grins. “Such a tease.”

“We are what we are,” Lexa says with a smirk. She’s actually quite proud of herself. Having a girl underneath her, aching to be touched - it’s an ego boost. It’s sexy.

Clarke pulls Lexa down by her shirt and draws her into a searing kiss. In a desperate attempt to stave off the overwhelming need for friction between her legs, Lexa drops her weight against Clarke to put just enough pressure where they both need it in order to survive this game they’re playing, instead of just grabbing Clarke’s hips and dry humping her until they both come.

(That wouldn’t be sexy. That would just be pathetic. But she really, _really_ wants to do just that.)

Clarke works her hands into Lexa’s hair as they kiss. She scratches lightly at her scalp, eliciting a satisfied hum from Lexa. It’s a nice, comforting feeling, and it helps her clear her head. Lexa drops her mouth to Clarke’s jaw and starts kissing and sucking a line down her neck. She wants to be able to move against her - she wants that _badly_ \- but she also really wants Clarke to beg just a little. A simple “please” is all she’s asking for here.

Instead, Clarke decides to play dirty.

She slips her hand between their bodies and slides it under her jeans, cupping herself and moaning softly at the touch. While Lexa holds herself frozen in place, forgetting how to breathe, and remembering a particular fantasy she had about something _just_ like this, Clarke’s hand slides farther into her pants. Lexa can only imagine what she’s doing, how she’s touching herself. But just the thought has her imagination running wild.

Lexa’s throat goes dry at the thought of it. As much as she’d love the chance to watch Clarke get herself off underneath her, there’s something she wants more.

She pulls Clarke’s hand from her pants and holds her delicately by the wrist to keep her from trying anything clever like that again. “Not fair,” she scolds with a pout.

“Who says I have to play fair?” She grins but her smile quickly fades when Lexa gives in just long enough to rock into her once. Just once, to give her a taste of what she wants Clarke to ask for.

She gasps, but narrows her eyes at Lexa. The look Clarke gives her makes her nervous. She’s up to no good.

Clarke glances from Lexa to the hand wrapped around her wrist and back to Lexa. When she pulls against her grip, Lexa doesn’t let go but instead lets Clarke guide her hand toward her until she’s pushing two fingers into Lexa’s mouth.

She closes her lips around them carefully, gauging the way Clarke reacts for a sign that she’s doing something right or wrong. This is... unfamiliar territory, but Clarke looks completely captivated by it. She sucks on her fingers and Clarke’s breath hitches.

 _God_ , she can _taste_ her.

“Please,” Clarke finally says when she pulls her fingers away. Lexa lets go of her hand and gives her exactly what she wants.

And the teasing? That was a bad idea, and it’s backfiring fast. When she rolls her hips against Clarke, she’s treated to soft whimpers and Clarke’s hands traveling over sides, leaving a trail of heat in her wake wherever she touches. They still have most of their clothes on and she’s starting to sweat because the teasing was a really, really bad idea. She’s already on the edge after only a few strokes against Clarke’s leg.

Lexa pushes herself up on her forearms. “Can I?” she asks, tugging on the hem of Clarke’s tank top.

Clarke doesn’t say anything - she just sits up and lets Lexa peel her shirt off. Her hair gets caught in it and their rhythm breaks down but, honestly? That’s probably for the best. Lexa’s really close.

“You too,” Clarke says, already pulling the buttons of Lexa’s shirt undone until she pushes it off her shoulders. The cool air that hits her back makes up for the nearly suffocating heat of grinding against her roommate while fully clothed, and it’ll have to be enough for now. “You look so good.”

Clarke hooks her fingers in Lexa’s bra straps and tugs to bring her close enough to kiss again. Lexa takes it as an invitation to drop her weight against her as she reaches down to readjust Clarke’s leg around her and center herself over her thigh.

Clarke presses a hot, wet kiss to her jaw. “ _Move_ ,” she commands.

Lexa is more than happy to comply.

Her rhythm isn’t as well coordinated as Clarke’s was. She has her strengths - this just doesn’t happen to be one of them. Clumsy execution aside, Lexa knows there’s a good chance she’ll be thinking about this for months afterwards, whenever she gives in to her own body’s frustration and touches herself. With every thrust against each other, their breaths grow more ragged and Clarke’s soft whimpers become higher-pitched, noticeably louder, and less controlled. Lexa barely contains herself. She shuts her eyes tight to avoid the sight of Clarke desperate and needy underneath her. One look at her right now could do it for her, and she’s not sure she wants this to be over yet.

Slowing down isn’t an option, because the slower she goes, the more agonizing the drag of Clarke’s leg is where she needs it the most. Drawing out the sensation just makes it more powerful, so instead Lexa quickens her movements to make them short, choppy, and manageable.

It doesn’t work.

Clarke moans loudly in her ear at the new speed, and she’s already so fucking _close._ If she could just hold on another minute-

Instead, Clarke grabs her by the hips and experimentally rocks her hips side to side, changing the angle and grinding her thigh against Lexa’s clit _just_ right. Lexa’s breath catches in her throat, and she comes with a muffled whine against Clarke’s skin. Her hips jerk a few times and then still against Clarke’s leg.

“Did you just finish?”

She’d expected it to happen, but Lexa still feels embarrassed that she came first and from almost no stimulation. She doesn’t meet Clarke’s eyes, but nods with her head in the crook of Clarke’s neck.

“God, that’s so hot.” Humiliation turns to pride in the time it takes for Clarke to flip them over again and straddle her. Lexa feels limp but energized at the same time. Her body is sated and tired from her orgasm, but she could definitely use more than one tonight. The way Clarke’s breasts are on display in front of her is doing nothing to convince her to settle for just one.

Clarke rests her hand on Lexa’s collarbone for leverage and leans down to kiss and suck a line down her neck, clearly encouraged by Lexa’s orgasm. The way Clarke kisses and moves against her makes her feel nothing short of worshipped.

She pulls away to meet Lexa’s eyes. “I’m close, too, can you...?”

“Sure. Anything you need.”

Instead of asking, Clarke opts to show her exactly what she wants and exactly where she wants it. She sits up in Lexa’s lap, unbuttons her jeans and slides the zipper down. Her underwear is baby blue.

“Give me your hand.”

Lexa gives it willingly. Clarke turns her palm up and guides her hand into her pants slowly, humming to herself at the feeling of Lexa’s hand cupping her through her underwear. Clarke covers Lexa’s hand with her own, but Lexa’s fingers do the work. She presses the base of her hand against Clarke’s clit to give her something firm to grind against while her fingers slip past the damp cloth underneath her to tease at her opening.

Clarke pulls Lexa’s hand away only to push it back in, making her touch her directly now. Without any barriers, Lexa can feel just how hot and wet Clarke is for her.

One orgasm? Definitely not enough tonight. But they’ve got time.

Clarke hasn’t received that particular memo, apparently. She covers Lexa’s hand with her own to encourage an increase in momentum. She rolls her hand over Lexa’s to set a rhythm and then bucks into it once Lexa picks it up on her own.

“Good,” she purrs, her eyes fluttering closed as she sinks into the sensation. “Harder. Faster, too.”

Lexa does as she’s told. It’s a miracle that she can even remember how to work her fingers at all with the sight of Clarke on top of her, dangerously close to finishing and riding both of their hands at the same time. “Are you close?”

She just nods. Lexa thumbs at her clit as best as she can from the angle she has, but it’s effective.. Clarke’s mouth falls open and her breath catches, and then she’s pumping both of their hands hard against herself and tumbling over the edge.

When she finishes riding out her orgasm, Clarke collapses against Lexa’s chest and rests her head on her shoulder while she catches her breath. She laughs softly.

“We’re even again.”

“Are we keeping score, then?” Lexa asks. She hopes so. If they’re counting orgasms, that means she’s got a good chance of watching Clarke come again tonight.

Clarke lifts her head and offers her a devilish grin, followed by a soft kiss. “We’re doing whatever the fuck you want tonight.”

She can’t help but smile when their lips meet again. While Clarke kisses her soft and slow, Lexa hooks her fingers into the belt loops of Clarke’s jeans. She tugs gently, just enough to get her attention until Clarke pulls away. “I want these off.”

“Take them off, then.”

Lexa slides her hands underneath the sides of Clarke’s jeans and hooks her thumbs around them to drag them down. It’s an excuse to feel her skin and admire her legs. When she finally kicks them off, Clarke starts to crawl down her body. “What are you doing?”

“Trying something new,” Clarke explains as she brings her mouth down on the button of Lexa’s jeans. The position itself - Clarke’s head between her legs - is enough to overexcite Lexa, but besides the incredibly erotic visual that she’s been handed on a silver platter, she’s not entirely sure what Clarke’s aim is. Apparently she’s not alone, because Clarke pulls back with a huff. “I’m trying to unbutton your jeans with my teeth,” she says with a pout that tells Lexa she’s not succeeding.

“Why?” She barely contains a laugh. If ever there was a bad idea, it was laughing at the girl with her head between Lexa’s legs.

Clarke grumbles as she gives in and uses her hands to unbutton her jeans with ease. “It’s supposed to be really sexy, but it’s harder than it looks, okay?”

This time she can’t help it. A laugh - pure nervous energy - escapes her as she lets her head fall back on the pillow. “You don’t need to try to be sexy, Clarke. You already are.”

Clarke pauses for a moment. Lexa lifts her head just in time to see Clarke bringing her mouth down again, this time catching the zipper of her jeans between her teeth and dragging it open. And Clarke was right. It’s _really_ sexy. But it’s nothing compared to the teasing she delivers once she tugs Lexa’s pants off and tosses them to the floor with the rest of their clothes.

Clarke presses a hot, open mouthed kiss just above the line of her underwear and Lexa’s head falls back against the pillow again. She doesn’t know which is more erotic: watching Clarke kiss her, or laying back and not being able to predict where she’ll feel her lips fall next. What she does know is that not holding her head up gives her the chance to refocus that energy into not making an embarrassing sound as Clarke teases her. Lexa feels her lips ghost over the band of her underwear and then continue lower and lower. Clarke presses another kiss just below the band. Another a little further down. One to the left of where she wants her and another just to the right.

Holy _fuck_.

When her kisses finally pull a whimper from Lexa, Clarke laughs softly and starts to kiss back up her body, farther and farther from where Lexa needs her. She kisses just above her hips, drags her tongue along the line of her stomach, and presses a soft kiss just below the wire of her bra. She finally pushes herself up enough to kiss Lexa on the mouth.

With Clarke’s mouth on hers, she lets herself moan louder this time to release some of the pent up energy that Clarke is building in her. It’s a muffled sound but it’s just as embarrassing as she’d expected it to be. Clarke smiles against her lips then pulls back so she can straddle Lexa more properly. “Can I take your bra off?”

She nods, afraid that if she says anything else her voice will betray her again. As Clarke slides her hand underneath her to work at her bra, Lexa does the same. She reaches behind Clarke to unhook her bra and lets it fall away. For a moment, she only stares. Clarke pulls at Lexa’s bra and then they’re both exposed, raking their eyes over each other.

Tentatively, she slides her hands up Clarke’s stomach. At first, she flinches at the soft touch, but then she leans into her hands. She cups Clarke’s breasts in her hands and squeezes gently. They’re full, warm, and beautiful. Clarke just watches with her bottom lip caught between her teeth. She nods at Lexa when their eyes meet, encouraging her. Lexa sits up so that she can lean forward and kiss her chest.

“Hmm,” Clarke hums when Lexa presses her mouth against her nipple and swirls her tongue over it. This is her favorite part of Clarke’s body, hands down. She squeezes her other breast and toys at her nipple with her thumb while she works Clarke up with her mouth.

Clarke brings her hand to Lexa’s head and starts to stroke her fingers through her hair, eliciting a pleased hum from Lexa that isn’t totally humiliating this time. The soothing motion of Clarke’s fingers only encourages her, and Lexa switches sides, wrapping her lips around her other hardened nipple.

She could do this for _hours_ , but Clarke has other plans.

After a minute or so of Lexa’s attentive ministrations, Clarke pushes her back down against the pillows and settles herself on top of her. The silky glide of skin on skin is pure paradise, Lexa thinks. She runs her fingers up and down Clarke’s sides and over her back.

The softness. That’s what she can’t get enough of about girls. They’re soft in every way a person can be. Clarke is soft against the palms of Lexa’s hands and soft in the way she looks into her eyes after she presses another gentle kiss to her lips.

Clarke Griffin is a sight for the gods when she’s on top of her, all disheveled hair and kiss-bruised lips.  Lexa knows the way she’s looking at her must be destroying their illusion of friendship, but so has most of the night and most of the ways they’ve touched each other. They were drawn to each other the first time they had sex, but now there are feelings involved, solicited or not. Maybe not on Clarke’s end, but definitely on Lexa’s. The respect Clarke showed her in spite of every terrible thing she’s said to her; the offer of friendship despite how hard that must be for Clarke; the invitation to meet her friends. Each act of kindness is starting to add up to something that Lexa can’t deny with Clarke so close to her.

Instead of following that train of thought down a dangerous path of overthinking and anxiety, Lexa takes a deep breath and clears her mind. She holds Clarke softly against her. Lexa lets herself find comfort in the weight of Clarke’s body against hers.

Clarke kisses her jaw and tips her chin up so that she can better kiss her neck. “Can I go down on you?”

The six word request steals the breath from Lexa’s lungs in the amount of time it takes for her to close her eyes and let out a nervous laugh. This is _really_ happening. As if she even has to ask. “Yes. _Please_.”

Clarke pushes herself up on her forearms and grins down at Lexa, her tongue poking out between her teeth, her excitement as palpable as Lexa’s is.

Clarke sets them up just the way she wants them: a pillow underneath Lexa to prop her up, her knees up to give Clarke room to lay down on the bed, and Clarke’s hair wrapped in a messy bun with a hair tie that she finds in her nightstand. She tries not to let herself grow impatient or overly eager, but the way Clarke sets the scene without any hesitation tells her that she’s done this before - and she likes it. She’d never been with someone with experience before Clarke.

Lexa drags a hand over her face to calm herself down when Clarke settles between her legs and slowly spreads her thighs apart for her.

_Christ._

Just like she had before, Clarke teases her until Lexa is on the verge of begging for it. She kisses her through her underwear and Lexa lifts her hips to grind upwards against Clarke’s mouth when she kisses her _just_ where she needs her, only to drop them as she realizes how eager that makes her seem.

Clarke shifts back enough to pull down Lexa’s underwear and toss it aside. When she slides her hands down the inside of her thighs to spread her legs wider, Lexa stops caring how eager she looks. She wants her, she’s wet, and she’s desperate for it.

“Do you know what you like?” Clarke asks, pressing a hot kiss to the inside of her thigh.

“Start slow, but...” Lexa shifts against the mattress. “Don’t hold back. I usually need to be fingered, too. But not always.”

When Clarke’s mouth comes down on her, she keeps her movements soft and careful. A tentative flick of her tongue to taste her, a slow, broad stroke to warm her up, and a mindful amount of restraint where she thinks it’s necessary. She tests her sensitivity through careful licks and soft suction against her clit. Clarke grazes her teeth against Lexa’s skin. It’s harmless and far more stimulating than she expects it to be.

When she gets a feel for how to take care of her, Clarke _really_ doesn’t hold back.

Lexa can’t do anything but just lay back and let herself experience everything Clarke does to her - and she starts to do it fast. She spends the first few minutes just barely on the edge of being completely overwhelmed, alternating between taking deep breaths and having them stolen from her lungs every time Clarke takes her by surprise.

In the past, it’s usually taken her ten minutes, at least, to reach her orgasm. Clarke gets her there in six without any penetration. Her climax builds so slowly that it’s almost unbearable. She rocks her hips up against Clarke’s mouth as she chases release, spreading her legs wider every time Clarke’s tongue strokes her. Lexa is needy and desperate and completely spread for Clarke when she moans against her clit and the vibrations push her over the edge.

She comes with her hands in Clarke’s hair and more obscenities tumbling from her mouth than she’s said in a year.

For a few moments, she’s content to ride out the aftershocks of her orgasm against Clarke’s mouth, until the stimulation becomes too much and she finally reaches for the hand resting on her thigh. Lexa laces their fingers together and pulls Clarke back up. There’s something comforting and safe in the way that Clarke drops her weight against her. Like she’s taking care of her in more ways than one.

“You taste good,” she says before she kisses her. Even in her own fatigue, Lexa’s heart races at the idea.

When they part, Lexa watches Clarke catch her breath. She brings her hand up to stroke Clarke’s hair and studies her. She looks content. Happy. Fearless.

Lexa pulls her down and kisses her throat as she pushes Clarke at the hip so they can roll over.

“What are you doing?”

“Returning the favor,” she says, positioning herself over Clarke. She tugs gently at her underwear, the only thing still separating them. “Can I?”

Clarke shakes her head. “You don’t have to.” For a moment, Lexa tries to fight off the disappointment that comes with thinking Clarke doesn’t enjoy oral sex. It’s alright if she doesn’t, but at the same time-

Well. It’s the only thing Lexa knows she’s any good at.

“Just because I did, it doesn’t mean you have to.” Clarke strokes Lexa’s arm reassuringly, but the most reassuring thing is the fact that Clarke thinks she doesn’t want to go down on her.

Someone’s in for a surprise.

Lexa hides her excitement in a rough kiss. When she pulls away, she copies the irritating smirk that Clarke always gives her. “Don’t be a tease, Clarke. This is the best part.”

Just like Clarke had, Lexa sets the scene exactly how she wants it. She borrows Clarke’s hair tie and puts her hair up as she kneels on the bed between her legs.

“Get comfortable,” she tells her, both as a suggestion and a fair warning. She intends to take her time.

Lexa starts slow.

She learns the shape of Clarke by running her tongue over her, side-to-side and from the bottom up. Lexa memorizes the texture of the girl underneath her mouth and takes a moment to overanalyze the situation. She hates her own predictability. She has her mouth on a gorgeous girl and all she can think is _what should she call her_?

Her roommate? That’s more than just limiting. And they’re certainly nothing close to girlfriends. Friends... also limiting. Friends with benefits would imply a certain amount of discussion and agreement. This thing between them just keeps _happening_. They set rules and then they break them. Maybe there’s no name for what they have. Lexa just knows that when Clarke weaves her fingers through her hair, she wants to call her _hers_. At least for the night.

Lexa centers herself again, pulls herself from her own thoughts, and focuses on giving Clarke the attention she’s craving. She takes note of the way Clarke reacts to her. When she shifts her hips upwards, Lexa knows she’s found a spot where Clarke wants to be stroked and sucked.

She delivers a few quick flicks of her tongue just below her clit, less than an inch away from where Clarke wants her most.

“ _Tease_ ,” Clarke chokes out and gives Lexa’s hair a playful tug. It thrills her more than it should.

She touches her tongue to the left and right of where Clarke wants her, working her up and enjoying the subtle jerk of Clarke’s hips when she does something right. Clarke hikes her knees up and spreads her legs wider, silently begging for more.

“Hook your leg over my shoulder.”

Clarke tries the position on for size, but Lexa can tell she’s unsure and overthinking it. That’s nothing a distraction can’t fix. She lets her mouth fall on Clarke again and sucks at her clit softly, just enough to give her a taste of the release she wants so badly. With a contented sigh, Clarke relaxes and Lexa feels the tension fade from her legs.

Lexa uses the new angle to give Clarke a few slow, long licks starting at her opening and working her way up to the sensitive bud that she takes into her mouth again, but only briefly. Clarke muffles a moan against her own hand and Lexa finds herself grinding against the mattress to fight off her own arousal, which is growing more present and frustrating by the second.

This is _seriously_ sexy.

She laps at the evidence of Clarke’s arousal in consistent, broad strokes of her tongue and tries not to let it get to her head that Clarke is wet and greedy for _her._ The thought of her writhing underneath Lexa as a direct result of everything they’ve done tonight is exactly the kind of thing she shouldn’t be thinking about when she’s trying to focus all her attention on Clarke.

Lexa decides she’s teased her plenty when Clarke moans loudly enough for Lexa to think it was on purpose, to encourage her.

Clarke isn’t as easy to please as she was. Lexa kind of likes that, likes the challenge of it. She’d lost count of how many times she’d perfected her technique, but her experience was limited to one girl. Clarke takes longer to work up, and she seems content to just lay back and bliss out as Lexa goes to work. Still, when her jaw starts to hold a dull ache, she can’t help but think she needs to try something different.

She pushes herself up on her left forearm and rubs Clarke with three fingers circling her clit. When Clarke lifts her head to see what she’s doing, Lexa holds her gaze. She slides two fingers inside of Clarke without breaking eye contact, keeping the motion painfully slow until she’s knuckle deep and Clarke is letting her head fall back on the pillow. Her jaw drops. Her hips lift. Lexa curls her fingers once, leaving Clarke gasping.

“Do that again.”

She does. Lexa sets a rhythm that slowly intensifies - a combination of her thrusting into Clarke, curling her fingers, and working her tongue against her clit.

She can still remember the first time she ever did this. It had been a sloppy and terrible experience. Lexa had overdone it, trying too hard to impress Costia with tricks and creative techniques that fell flat and only left them both feeling uncomfortable. If there was anything she learned from that experience, it was that consistency is key.

Comparing herself to the girl she was a few months ago is a surreal feeling. The school she’s at, the girl she’s with... it all feels incredibly removed from the person she was before her parents found out the truth about her.

That’s surreal, too - admitting that it’s the truth. And maybe it’s the adrenaline, or maybe it’s the arousal - Lexa can’t be sure - but for once she doesn’t feel horrible about herself. Maybe if she can keep this secret behind closed doors, it can stay harmless. Back home, that wouldn’t be a possibility. Here, she’s safe with Clarke. Maybe that’s why she keeps giving in to her. Some part of her feels safe enough to let herself get attached to unrealistic hope because nothing else feels realistic; it’s as if she’s Alice and this rabbit hole that she’s fallen into with Clarke is Wonderland.

She’s overthinking things again.

She sets aside every complicated thought running through her mind and clears her head. This is about Clarke. This is about making her come as hard as Lexa had. She picks up the pace of her hand, stroking what she thinks is Clarke’s g-spot every other thrust. By the time Lexa starts to moan against her, Clarke is crying out and pulling her hair harder.

She can pretend that she’s moaning to enhance the stimulation for Clarke, but if Lexa’s being honest, nothing is making her more vocal than the way that Clarke has started to move in time with her strokes, fucking both her fingers and her face.

Even Lexa can feel herself getting close, but the only friction she’s getting is from the barely contained grind of her hips against the bed. Still, coupled with the sounds coming from Clarke, it’s really doing it for her.

“I’m close,” Clarke breathes out between gasps. It earns her a proud smirk between her legs and Clarke playfully tugs at Lexa’s hair to scold her. “Don’t get cocky.”

Lexa almost pulls away to make a sarcastic remark - Clarke’s really asking for one - but when Clarke begs her to keep going, she can’t bring herself to stop what she’s doing for even a second.

“Please don’t stop, you’re so good at this.”

Lexa spreads her own legs for a better angle to put pressure against her center. Her feet hit the footboard and she pushes herself forward, using the momentum to rub herself harder against the bed. The arm she’s still using to hold herself is starting to hurt as much as her jaw, but the ache only intensifies the pleasure. It’s making her movements sloppy, though. She doesn’t want that, and neither does Clarke. She makes up for it by sliding another finger inside of her and sucking her clit.

“ _Fuck,_ that’s perfect.”

Just when Clarke’s whimpers start to become higher pitched, Lexa thinks back to their first time together. She thinks Clarke likes it when she’s on the edge too long, so she slows her fingers and gives her less of what she wants. She leaves her orgasm just out of reach and focuses on drawing out pleasure with her tongue, instead. That only lasts as long as it takes for Clarke to break.

“ _Please_ , Lex, I want to come.” That, and a series of obscenities that get lost in an appreciative sigh when Lexa picks up the pace again, are what almost make her come undone right then against the mattress. She manages to keep herself in check just long enough for Clarke to reach her peak.

“God, I’m coming-” Clarke’s hands grip Lexa’s head hard against her, holding her there as she rides out her orgasm. “Stay - just like that. Stay,” she says, and Lexa has absolutely no intention of stopping Clarke from using her face however she needs to in order to get off.

When she’s finished, Clarke’s head falls back against the pillows and she lets go of Lexa. Her legs go limp around her and she sighs happily. Lexa pulls her fingers away and licks them one by one, only to do the same to the mess Clarke’s made between her legs.

In what she’ll probably remember as the most embarrassing way she’s ever gotten herself off, Lexa shifts her weight to her other arm and slides her free hand between her legs to stroke herself as she gently runs her tongue over Clarke, bringing her down from an orgasm just as she works herself up to one.

It doesn’t take much. A few circles around her clit, some jerky strokes of her hand, and the mental image of Clarke coming undone beneath her, and Lexa is tumbling over the edge for the third time in one night.

By some small mercy, Clarke doesn’t mention that Lexa just got herself off in about eight seconds flat when she pulls her back up and kisses her senseless. Instead she just laughs and smiles at her.

“How the hell did you get so good at that?”

She’s still catching her breath, but Lexa manages to smile back. “Practice makes perfect.”

“Oh, you think you’re perfect?”

“No.” Lexa sighs. It’s probably the effects of three orgasms, a little alcohol, and the exhaustion setting in, but she feels utterly content in Clarke’s arms. “But I think you do,” she teases.

Clarke shrugs, feigning disinterest. “It was alright. I’ve had better.”

 _As if_. Lexa laughs. She raises an eyebrow. “Oh, have you?”

“Maybe.”

Lexa leans down to kiss her neck. Would it be a bad idea to mark Clarke’s skin? Probably. Is she tempted to? Definitely.

Clarke hums in appreciation. “Maybe not.”

“Didn’t think so.” Having made her point, Lexa lays her head against Clarke’s shoulder and settles against her.

She feels Clarke take a deep breath and hesitate before she speaks. “How are you doing?”

 _Tired_ , she wants to say. But that’s not what she’s asking. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“It’s okay if you want to.”

“I don’t.”

Clarke starts to stroke Lexa’s hair absentmindedly. “I just get it if you’re scared.”

She’s not, really. Not right now. “Are _you_ scared?”

Clarke nods.

“What are you scared of?”

“I’m scared you’ll hate me when this is over.”

“I won’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

She’s right, of course. Lexa doesn’t know how she’ll feel. But right now, in this moment, hating Clarke feels impossible. She’s not sure how she ever managed it in the first place.

Lexa lifts her head. “Can we talk about something else?”

A small smile grows into a full one when Clarke leans over to check the clock on her nightstand. “It’s 11:52... We still have eight minutes. We don’t have to talk at all.”

Lexa smiles and hovers over Clarke, leaning in for a kiss.

-

She leaves Clarke in bed the next morning, but not without a note this time. She won’t hurt her like that again.

_Gone for tutoring. Back soon._

Lexa finds Raven in the dining hall. She’s leaning against a wall and typing something out on her phone faster than should be humanly possible. It’s a nice thing, Lexa thinks, that she can see someone like that and think _yeah, that seems like Raven_. It’s almost like having a friend.

“Hey. You look a billion times better than I’m feeling today,” Raven comments when she pulls herself away from her phone. “Guess you didn’t drink enough for the hangover to take, huh?”

“Not nearly.”

“Fun night, though.” Raven has _no_ idea.

“Breakfast?” Lexa asks.

“Yes, _please_. Coffee first, all else later.”

Raven hands her a tray and Lexa starts to build her breakfast, trying not to think too much about why she’s so hungry after last night. Instead she focuses on Raven. “Can I ask why you’re in boarding school?”

Raven grabs a handful of sweetener packets and piles them onto her tray next to her coffee cup. “Yeah, that’s O’s fault, actually.” Her fingers ghost over the cereal containers and she opts for pouring cocoa puffs into her bowl. “I mean, not really, because her parents are the ones who sent her away. She and her step-dad never got along. Anyway, by some miracle I convinced my cheap-ass parents to send me too. I guess private school was a better deal for them than actually having to raise me.” She shrugs and adds a blueberry muffin to her plate. “Their loss. What about you? Still sticking with ‘a change of heart’?”

Lexa pours her own cereal and allows herself a moment of hesitation. “My parents didn’t like my choices. How much has Clarke told you?”

They pick their trays up and find a table to sit at. It’s early, so by a small mercy, they have some privacy at the end of their table.

“Not a lot. She talks about your eyes more than your past.”

That makes Lexa smile and there’s no hope of fighting it. It gives her just enough courage to say it. She straightens herself in her seat. “My parents found out that I’m...” She takes a deep breath. “Gay.”

That word, those three letters, the single syllable that she’s tried to extinguish from her thoughts for years, doesn’t seem so heavy anymore. Raven hardly reacts.

“You aren’t surprised.”

“Well, no. It doesn’t take a genius to see there’s something happening between you and Clarke. You _did_ kinda confess last night. There is, right?”

Lexa picks up her spoon and stares at her plate. Almost as if on cue, her mind races with flashes of the previous night. Clarke’s lips, soft and pink and kissing her thighs; Lexa’s hands in her hair; Clarke’s fingers inside her-

“Yes,” she admits. “I... don’t know what.”

Raven nods. “Clarke told me you kissed?”

“She spared many details, then.”

“I bet you this blueberry muffin that my love life’s more complicated than yours,” Raven says, taking the muffin from her tray and placing it between them.

Lexa takes it and sets it firmly on her own tray.

Raven narrows her eyes. “Don’t be so sure.” She takes the muffin back and holds it up. “I’m in love with my best friend. I made out with her last night and it didn’t even faze her. So, now I need to find a way to move on because I can’t live without her and I can’t stay in love with her.”

Lexa allows Raven a moment because her case does have merit. That sounds like an impossible situation. Still. “I’ve only ever been attracted to girls,” Lexa starts. It’s strange how easy it is to talk to Raven. She’s remarkably accepting. Were it anybody else, she might be on the verge of tears, but Raven puts her at ease. This is a girl who cherishes people. She has a real gift for it. “My parents found out. They scared my girlfriend into leaving me - probably threatened to out her - and shipped me off to boarding school where I share a room with my very attractive roommate who scares me in more ways than I can count. I told her I was straight, she kissed me, we had sex, I told her it was a mistake, she offered me her friendship, and then we had sex again. And I...” She pauses to delay the inevitable. She has to admit it. “I really like her. She’s kind and attentive and I don’t think I deserve her.”

“Well, shit,” Raven says. “Halfsies?”

Lexa laughs from relief and lets out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. They split the muffin, but Raven gives her the bigger half.

“You know, just ‘cause they’re your parents and they love you doesn’t mean that they’re right,” Raven says as she breaks off a piece of muffin and pops it into her mouth. She chews for a minute and looks around the dining hall.

Raven’s right, of course. Lexa knows that. It’s such a worthless fact of life, though. She groups it with statements like “it gets better”, “being gay isn’t a choice”, and “you deserve more than this”. All true, all things that she longs for, and all entirely unattainable realities. She picks up her spoon again and starts to eat so that she doesn’t have to say anything.

“I mean, look at Clarke.” Raven takes a sip of her coffee and says, “She’s sixteen when her boyfriend dies-”

Lexa nearly chokes. “Clarke’s boyfriend _died_?”

Raven stops, eyes wide and regretful. “Yeah,” she says hesitantly. “He did. Sorry, I’m just used to everyone knowing.”

She tries to think of everything Clarke’s said about her ex-boyfriend. Not much. Nearly nothing, actually. “She didn’t tell me that.”

Raven’s shoulders slump and she sighs. “She wouldn’t have.”

“She doesn’t act like she’s been through that.”

“Clarke’s convincing like that.”

The more she thinks about it, the less sense it makes, and the more Lexa feels for her.

“But listen.” Raven reaches for her hand to pull her out of her thoughts. “Finn died and she just sort of started lashing out. She came out to her mom, like, a day later. Her mom told her it was just a reaction to the trauma and she sent to her a fucking therapist.” She shrugs. “She really thought it would help. I’ve known Abby for years - she genuinely thought she was doing what was best for her. It still wasn’t right.”

And all at once, it makes sense.

“Abby’s alright with it now, by the way. It took her some time, but she came around.” Raven furrows her eyebrows at Lexa. “Hey, you alright?”

Lexa blinks. “Yes. I’m sorry. It’s just- I never knew that about Clarke.”

“You wouldn’t. Clarke would rather bottle things up and tackle other people’s problems before she ever admitted she had any of her own.”

And all at once, Clarke choosing her make sense, too.

“That’s why she likes me.” Lexa slumps in her seat and swallows down a wave of something painful. Shame, regret, embarrassment, or maybe a bit of each. “She wants to fix me.”

“No,” Raven says it like she’s entirely missed the point. God, she hopes so. “She likes you ‘cause you’re unattainable.”

Unlikely. Clarke has very much attained her. She’s hers, no question.

“Look, she’s just as scared as you. But in her mind, she can’t lose someone if she thinks she can’t really get them. And stop assuming the worst - give yourself some credit. You’re a piece of ass, Woods. She’s got the hots for you.”

That actually pulls a laugh from Lexa. The thought of someone like Clarke Griffin looking at her in that way... Well, it’s certainly not hard on the ego.

“Thank you, Raven.”

Raven sits up and leans forward. “Here’s how I see it. You’ve got it rough, I won’t lie. But you’ve also got the girl. She’s into you, and Clarke only gets invested in people who are worth it. She sees something real in you. So _go for it._ What’s the worst that could happen?”

Lexa looks up at the ceiling and shakes her head. She wishes it was that simple. “Never in the history of romance has ‘ _what’s the worst that could happen_ ’ been a sound reason to pursue a relationship.”

“Maybe not. What do I know? I’ve never had a real relationship anyway.”

She can’t help but frown when she thinks that someone like her - the complicated mess that she is - has had a real relationship and someone as good and worthy of that kind of attention as Raven hasn’t. It isn’t fair.

“I just don’t think I can do it.” Lexa focuses on the bowl in front of her and pushes away the number of unattainable realities around her. She goes back to the only reality she knows. “I’m supposed to be here to change.”

Raven taps her hand to get her attention and waits until Lexa meets her eyes. “So _change_. Has it ever occurred to you that maybe the only cure for being gay is to stop hating yourself for it?”

Lexa scoffs. “Do you really believe it’s that easy?”

“I never said it was easy.”

-

When Lexa closes their door behind her and drops her bag on the desk in their room, she finds Clarke making the bed. She has on a soft gray t-shirt and jean shorts. Her hair is wet like she’s recently showered, and she just looks _good_. Clarke has to do so little to amaze Lexa.

Clarke looks up from arranging her pillows. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Lexa says back.

There’s a moment of tense silence between them before Clarke breaks it. “How’s Raven?”

Lexa breathes out a sigh of relief. A conversation topic. More like a gift from God himself. “She’s alright. Actually...” She thinks of the things Raven told her about herself and smiles. “I don’t know how much I can say.”

She has secrets now. Someone else’s secrets. She has a _friend_.

Clarke seems to get the idea because she grins. “Octavia stuff?”

Lexa nods.

“I’ll get it out of her later.”

And with that, the heavy silence between them is back; and it seems to grow heavier when Clarke finishes fixing the bed and finally looks up at Lexa. She realizes she’s just standing there like a fool, but she can’t think of anything else to do but stare while Clarke stares back.

Clarke sighs. “If it’ll make you feel better, you can just say it.”

“Say what?”

“Say that last night was a mistake. I was serious about that deal.”

Lexa takes a step closer to Clarke and wonders if she’s brave enough to go through with this. Probably not. “I was serious about it, too.”

Clarke’s face falls. Lexa dares to wander closer to her.

“Your friend’s very smart, you know that?”

She’s met with an eye-roll. “Don’t tell her that, it’ll get to her head.” Clarke worries her bottom lip and looks up at Lexa. There’s hope in her eyes, it’s undeniable. And still, she says it again. “You can say it. We shouldn’t have let it happen again. We were drunk and we went too far. It’s okay to make mistakes.” Clarke offers her a sad smile and suddenly the choice is out of her hands. Suddenly she might just be brave enough for this.

Clarke deserves better.

“You’re not a mistake, Clarke.”

Lexa closes the distance between them and kisses her hard.

Ever since she was a child, the concept of heaven had been a constant she could depend on. It had never occurred to her that ‘heaven on earth’ was anything more than a catchphrase. But if it exists, it’s right here. It’s soft lips against her own and damp blonde hair caught around her fingers as she pulls her closer to kiss her with everything she’s got. It’s selfish. It’s addicting. It’s pure pleasure.

If heaven won’t take her, Clarke is the sweetest consolation prize the world has to offer.

 

 


End file.
